Elements of Attraction
by Pax Humana
Summary: Sequel to the Potter Attraction set centuries after Reunification and the discovery of Martian ruins, after unification under the Solar (later Stellar) Alliance, after eezo, magic and chakra combined to take people to the stars. Peace was theirs in a Golden Age until a strange ship showed up out of the black. What followed would upset everything. Partially published as Casus Belli.
1. A Peaceful Prologue

**Disclaimer:** The following work is fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, trademarked by J. K. Rowling, and characters from the Mass Effect series, owned by Bioware. No ownership of their work is assumed or implied. This work is strictly for entertainment purposes and is not part of the official story line. All associated with this work are not profiting from the creation and or publication of this work. Any issues or questions regarding the publication of this work should be directed to the author or his specified representative.

 **20th July, 2069. Potter Compound, Cranleigh, southern Britain, Earth. Home of the Lily Potter Foundation and of the architects of the Stellar Alliance.**

Footsteps in a darkened room echoed briefly as they approached a white circle in the centre. In the air, dimly revealing the occupant, first hundreds then thousands of brilliant points shined in the darkness.

"And the sky full of stars. Each light represents one of our stealthed probes observing a star system. In a couple of months time, the first wave will be fully deployed."

Behind her, the door silently closed after admitting someone else, someone she knew well.

"First wave?" The newcomer asked as he looked around.

She nodded, her hair following half a second behind. "Just so. The second wave is already being prepared for points of interest, alien colonies, astronomical observations, ruins, mining resources, new worlds to settle." She turned around, coming up behind him.

"Ah. I had wondered if there would be a way to make the program pay for itself." His tone told her he was only teasing.

"Beyond the new understanding of our galaxy, you mean." Hermione played along as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Beyond that, yes. Just because we can spend all that time and effort on the probes doesn't mean we won't get questions afterwards. We do need something to placate the public when they discover how much we spent on this grand undertaking."

"And they will find out, I know, Harry. Even if the initial investment is all coming out of our own pockets. As the driving force behind Reintegration of magicals back into society, even though it was nearly sixty years ago, they've, the public, have still not let up on watching us. Even after all we do to help fix the mistakes of the likes of the Dumbledores and Grindelwalds."

"Yes, even then. Something about being responsible people in charge of others, I think was the general idea." Harry wrapped an arm around his wife. "The spread of powers is still only in its early stages, honey. Not even one in a hundred humans has magic or chakra. You can't blame the majority for being cautious. The Wizarding World War, the Revelation, the follow-up with Reintegration, the riots… There have been so many changes since we met at Hogwarts. And this is going to be the biggest. The sky is truly no longer the limit."

"We know people will want to explore now that we _can_ explore, thanks to that accidental discovery of fast FTL last year in that prototype accident. Pocket dimensions via magic or chakra allowing many times more eezo to be held, well, someone was going to try it sooner or later, even without the researchers being sent too much that time. Sending out drones with basic sensor and FTL comm packages to do the initial survey is the responsible thing to do, so that no one gets hurt."

"And if it just so happens to bring you all the data first…" Harry teased his wife.

"Well, no one said I couldn't satisfy my own curiosity at the same time."

Harry chuckled. "True, dear. I always did like win-win solutions best."

 **4th May, 2252, Sigma Draconis system,** **Σ** **Draconis II, Daedalus colony, Eos city**

Despite the number of Greek names used, Daedalus was a normal world in the ever-growing Stellar Alliance. The planet had finished terraforming a century earlier from a nitrogen and carbon dioxide atmosphere and was now home to a variety of small but thriving ecosystems across its surface.

Eos, meaning dawn, was the name the first settlers had optimistically given to the planetary capital as well as the the space station that orbited above it and the city was home to one of the many Astro Survey Centres built by the Lily Potter Foundation.

Despite the name, no surveying took place in these complexes. Instead, they were where lots of employees, generally university students looking to make some spending money, would examine information brought in from the probe network being deployed to more and more systems across the galaxy.

Around two centuries earlier, ruins found on Mars had first alerted the Alliance to the existence of aliens in the past, forever answering one of the great mysteries. The races of Earth were not the only intelligent life to arise in the universe. Since then, other ruins had been found on various planets and moons as the Alliance made its way out among the stars but no one had found living, intelligent, alien life.

The various students who worked in the data centres often daydreamed that maybe they would be the one to change all of that. Lynette Walford wasn't immune to these fantasies but when she was on the clock, she had to set them aside in order to get her work done. "At least as a centaur, I get to lie down on the job." Lynette said to herself as she settled into one of the specially cushioned stalls her people needed. "It sure beats stargazing the old-fashioned way."

Early in her shift, she was interrupted in creating a report on the latest boring system, a red dwarf with little debris, no planets and no easy resources, by the computer alerting her to an anomaly. This happened often, the software finding something that triggered it to get a real person to look at the data, anything from a particular mineral being abundant in the system, nice for a small bonus but nothing special, to finding an already-habitable planet. Such a find could make her a small fortune as the discoverer, at least that was Foundation policy, rewarding them for good work.

This latest alert, however, quickly exceeded her expectations. The scout ship had dropped off this particular probe weeks before far outside any expected planetary system of the single F9 star, going back into FTL to head to the next system. Total time in the region under an hour then back to the safety of their own little, private universe.

They hadn't stayed long enough, and couldn't even if they had from so far away, to see the signs of life on one of the planets crowding its parent star for warmth in the inner system. That went double when the primary was so much brighter and so close. That job was for the probe which accelerated inwards, spiraling closer as it surveyed the star system.

Now, the probe's telemetry data reported on three gas giants with their attendant moons and captured asteroids, one thick asteroid belt, a hot rock close to the star bigger than Mercury and even richer in metals and…

"That's odd. That almost looks as if…" Lynette didn't notice as her voice trailed off. She didn't really know she'd spoken to herself at all as she examined the data. The last significant body in the system was a rocky planet, almost as far out from its star as Mars is from Sol, placing it firmly in the Goldilocks Zone. That was already cause for interest but the probe's spectrometer showed strong nitrogen and oxygen lines, water vapour… All the classic signs of a life-bearing world!

That wasn't the oddity. _That_ was the patches of light on the planet's night side! As she eliminated cause after possible cause from contention, she was quickly left with the one explanation she'd always wanted and never expected.

Her hand hit the button to summon her supervisor even before the smile broke out on her face. Belatedly, she remembered her class on scientific traditions, especially on great discoveries. Blushing, she was grateful that the booth was soundproofed, just in case she was wrong, after all.

"Eureka!"

' _Now, what is taking that blasted man so long?!'_ Lynette checked the time, astounded that what felt like half an hour had only been thirty seconds. The door opening and her supervisor entering took her mind off her realisation completely.

 **7th June, 2252, Stellar Alliance Parliament, London, Earth**

"This is Saradhi Ingerman reporting live from outside Parliament. The decision on changes to the military budget in wake of the discovery of live aliens has again occupied the entire session today, just as it did yesterday, but analysts predict that the armed services won't be getting everything they're asking for. On the other side of the spectrum, pushes for immediate, open communication have again been voted down by a wide margin." The reporter flashed a dazzling smile at the camera.

"Our in-house experts believe that some increased funding is inevitable with the lion's share going to the Navy to fund a new run of battlecruisers, possibly as many as another hundred! While the Potter Clan continue their support for greater preparedness, just in case, opponents of their extreme position point out that these aliens have showed no sign of hostility toward the Stellar Alliance or even an awareness of our existence. As such, the kind of measures supported by the Potters are premature, at best, warmongering, at worst.

"We'll be sure to keep you updated on developments as and when they occur!

"This is Saradhi Ingerman for Heinlein Habitat News. Back to Daisy in the studio!"

From off-screen, a nearby tourist made himself heard before he was cut off. "Hey, gorgeous, you don't need your Allure-"

 **Codex: Stellar Alliance summary**

Stellar Alliance, the government for humanity and its allies, originated on Earth after the reunification of the wizarding and regular world. The revelation of the existence of non-human intelligent species made many previously-important differences seem small. Veela integrated peacefully enough since they were already allied to the more moderate wizard faction. Goblins were 'conquered', officially. Unofficially, they signed treaties with local governments allowing them to work in the banking sector in exchange for amnesty on past crimes. The clean slate worked to lure enough wizards over that it was all over bar the shouting. The move to unify also bled across into the regular world. This only accelerated when the rejuvenated space programs found the Prothean ruins on Mars. The cost and benefits of space were great enough that only China held out from the global initiative for long. The loss of their first Mars-bound vessel cost the conservatives their ascendance in Chinese politics and the internationalists soon rose to power, bringing the last of the major powers under the banner of the Sentient Alliance. Its mandate was to oversee all space activities on behalf of its signatories and to ensure equitable distribution of its benefits. Private enterprise was encouraged but monitored. SA funds went to establishing infrastructure and policing the new colonies.

Mars attracted a lot of early interest. Venus was later terraformed thanks to magic-enhanced technology allowing for massively expanded payloads carrying engineered bacteria and other supplies. Mars' terraforming was a more gradual process.

Orbital colonies blossomed with a combination of environmental regulations on Earth and low transport costs from Earth orbit making orbit an attractive place for heavy industry. Asteroid mining expanded to keep pace.

Pluto exploration mission finds the damaged Relay. No repairs are possible. Despite the distances and various downplayed issues, later termed learning experiences, the Relay is dismantled and the eezo contents distributed to SA signatories. Revolutionary Eezo core unveiled. The static buildup problem of first generation cores solved by engineering of static-powered generators, thus cycling power back into ship systems. The use of Relay eezo increases efficiency even further, allowing for travel at 120ly/hr by time of first contact.

Dozens of colonies are created between finding the Ruins and the First Contact War. At first, many of the nearby ones are to extract local resources. A few are scientific outposts. Terraforming and orbital colonies abound in these cases. Only a few, very rare 'garden worlds' are found within hundreds of light years of Earth. These are considered _the_ prime real estate and SA remains highly protective of them. Naval fleet bases are established in their systems and settlement restricted to those with clean records in an effort to preserve their ecosystems. Fleet bases and tourism are the early major industries for these systems, supplanting the usual resource extraction and industrialization until local population increases to support it with native demand.


	2. Casus Belli

**Chapter 1 - Casus Belli**

 **26th January, 2257. Outskirts of Calvera system, Stellar Alliance mining and neutron star research colony**

"It wasn't supposed to be like this!"

Hermione Anne Potter didn't know who had said that amidst the chaos on the ship's bridge but she couldn't help but agree.

The captain of the Foundation merchant vessel _Star Witch_ had thought this run would be like any of the dozens of others she had made between Sol and Calvera. The neutron star was located some two hundred light-years from Earth and was the site of the Stellar Alliance's first and still largest mining base for natural element zero, founded nearly two centuries earlier in the first years following the discovery of eezo. The world had been exploring the cornucopia of opportunities that flowed from the reunification of magical and regular societies, starting what her ancestor called their current golden age, at the time. While many on Earth were busily exploiting the possibilities of adding magical and chakra effects to technology to solve their problems, those exploring the High Frontier found long-dead alien ruins on Mars. Shadow clones were even more valuable in space where they could expand mission capabilities without costing more fuel.

Instead, the moment humanity had both feared and awaited since the Martian discovery had come. While her ship was in FTL on the two hour journey to the mining colony, real, honest-to-God aliens had turned up at the outskirts of the Calvera system. They had accelerated in slowly with their large lumbering vessel, ignoring any and all communications from the base or the prospecting boats until the base commander panicked when they got within long weapons range of the people he was paid to protect. He had fired off a warning shot with the base's kinetic weaponry. The backup weapons fired in straight lines and so they were safer than relying on the guided missiles to obey their programming and miss the alien.

The aliens had swerved wildly, obviously panicked. By Alliance standards, the aliens' drive was powerful but less effective, presumably fighting greater inertia. Then it had disappeared into FTL all without a word, leaving behind a mystery that had occupied people across human space. At the time, Hermione had been cursing her bad luck at missing such an historic encounter with actual aliens. She'd wished for them to come back.

A week later, as Hermione's cargo was being checked for the final time before she took the full load of element zero and other precious materials back to the insatiable maw of Sol's industry, a second incursion occurred. Instead of just one ship, there were a dozen, each clearly armed and of a different design from the first. Speculation was already rife that these new aliens might even be a different species!

The comm buoys in the system transmitted back a live video feed as it happened. The aliens moved in, ignoring all signals just as the first ship had, and opened fire on the closest prospecting boat on their way to the mining colony. While the civilian boat's enchanted armor had been reinforced for keeping the occupants safe in the cluttered and irradiated system, it had no chance to shrug off even one of the projectiles the aliens had fired as they decelerated, much less twenty of them. The pilot had already been trying to get out of their path but her efforts had been for naught. The boat and its dozen goblin occupants were the first to die.

Shock held back the base commander for a vital thirty seconds, during which the hostile aliens got ever closer, deep into the base's weapons range. Eventually, the aliens got into their own attack range of the base and opened fire again. The base carried far thicker and more capable armor than the boat had. In addition, it was a hell of a lot larger and, though its outer layer was damaged, it survived.

The impact brought the defenders out of their shock and they finally returned fire. Their own kinetic weaponry was stopped by some sort of invisible barrier, reminiscent of the kind of shields that had often appeared in science fiction. The missiles, however, were far more effective. Though some of the missiles were shot down, the majority got close enough and detonated their nuclear payloads. The explosions, shaped by mass effect fields, excited the thin lasing rods into unleashing their X-rays. The invisible beams tore through the thin armor of the aliens like it wasn't even there, unlike the shots from the railguns which rammed into some type of shield short of their targets.

Two of the enemy vessels were destroyed or disabled and the rest were damaged, but their second volley silenced forever the mining base. One by one, they methodically hunted down and destroyed the rest of the prospecting boats. As they did so, Hermione ran. Unfortunately, it wasn't fast enough. Three of the enemy vessels turned to follow, their shots hammering at her rear armor as her pilot tried to dodge and evade their fire. After one of the longest minutes of her life, Hermione Potter, descendant of her famous and still gorgeous namesake, gave the order to activate their FTL despite the battle damage. She just hoped that her great-grandmother had kept the creativity that had helped take the Lily Potter Foundation to the stars. The Stellar Alliance they'd created was going to need all the help they could get.

* * *

Captain Dragus Maeionius, the commander of the patrol fleet assigned to clear out the claim jumpers, flared his mandibles in anger as he looked around the ruins. When the Volus corporation had sent in the report of an unauthorized presence in the system the Citadel had licensed to them, he had been expecting pirates or something. Not a full on mining colony. Even the initial fire that the Volus had taken seemed in line with that expectation. Instead, he gets here and they unleashed a wave of hellish missiles that set off nuclear bombs. Those would have been bad enough with their insane acceleration and the way they ignored standard ECM. But no, they were just the first stage for the energy weapons that had melted their way to killing thousands of good Turian soldiers.

He had ignored the nonsense the supposed pirates had broadcast. It was obviously just a ruse, a trick to make it appear they were a new species along with their prototype ships and weapons. Everyone knew how rare new spacefaring species were and desperate pirates came up with the most crazy ideas to save their worthless hides, so he had dismissed the signals as an obvious ruse.

Standard procedure was to kill pirates. When he had called the defenders pirates in front of his crew, he had sealed their fate without a care. His soldiers had boarded and shot every defender, armed or not, because they knew pirates often concealed their weaponry. It was standard procedure and good Turians were very good at following doctrine. He didn't find out they were new aliens until there were many hundreds lying dead on both sides. While most of the aliens put up little resistance, injured and shocked by the attack, those who did fight inflicted heavy casualties despite the shock tactics of his raiding parties before each was brought down one by one. The reports of impossible abilities they'd transmitted up the chain of command were dismissed as some sort of trick, one that hadn't saved them in the end.

And now he had to decide, did he tell anyone about his mistake or did he cover it up? Whatever else they were, these aliens had taken over a system that the Citadel Council had finally granted to a worthy Turian client so as far as he was concerned the trespassers had no right to be there. He ignored the little voice that told him the aliens had obviously been there first and for years looking at the size of their operation, the voice that said they were innocent. It was too late to bring them back. And he hadn't seen any sign of a Relay or communications buoy. He had been proud, at the time, that his gunner had blown up that last 'pirate' before it got away into FTL. Without its survivors to spread the tale, no one could ever prove what had happened here.

"Burn the bodies. Tell no one about the aliens we ran into out here. They were only pirates."

That was the order he gave to his crews and, good Turians that they were, they obeyed. Covering up meant they couldn't take back the new weapons, the new technologies here, but if they did, some nosy Salarian or whiny Asari would want to know where pirates came up with them. None of his people could get the Spirits-damned stuff to work anyway. Better to bury the secrets with the dead.

It was a decision he hoped he could live with. Only time would tell.

* * *

 **Either late 26th or early 27th.**

By the time Captain Hermione Anne Potter got her ship home half a day later, only trusting her ship's damaged engines at fifteen percent of normal velocity, just about everyone in human space had seen the attack. The footage of the first contact had been scary enough but the alien attack was still being shown over and over on just about every news channel and likely would be for days. Talking heads had analyzed the footage to death, footage that had surprisingly continued for a full two hours after the attack until one of the alien ships had literally run into the comm buoy, cutting off contact. For whatever reason, they had ignored it before then.

It was one hour and forty-five minutes longer than was needed to see the aliens invade the ruins of the base, to see flashes of weapons fire as they killed off the few survivors.

Seven years ago, one of the unmanned probes had seen the first evidence of living aliens thousands of light-years to the galactic south-east, far beyond the outermost Alliance outpost. Unlike the ruins on Mars, these aliens were living on a planet well within the 'Goldilocks zone' of the local star, a planet green with life. Eighty billion humans had seen the footage taken from the edge of that system as alien ships moved between the inner system and the glowing artifact that resembled the cracked one found orbiting Pluto. The debates about contacting the aliens had gone nowhere. While the Alliance was curious enough, the ruins on Mars, and the new aliens' own weaponry, meant it was also cautious about opening itself up to contact. Probes had been left on the outskirts of the system, watching and gathering data on the aliens' activities but not approaching closer than the orbit of the system's outer gas giant.

Linguists still tried to crack the alien language, however, and while they had made progress, they were far from reaching a consensus on translating back and forth between Batarian and the various Alliance languages. While they eagerly listened in on more broadcasts, adding to the data collected, the Stellar Alliance Parliament had decided against making open contact.

Those same broadcasts had slowly given a picture of a society unlike the Stellar Alliance, one where certain individuals appeared to be abused but it was unclear as yet if they were slaves or something like a prisoner work program, especially as some of the victims seemed to be from either another alien species or the Batarians' variation amongst themselves was far larger than humanity's own. There was simply not enough information to be certain of what was going on without interfering and widespread opposition to interfering without that proof of a problem. Linguists were still arguing over the validity of their translations.

Either way, many people wanted nothing to do with them and supported the decision to avoid the barbarians. Since the Batarians never showed any sign of noticing humanity in return, it was felt this was good enough. Space was vast. Surely, the galaxy would be big enough for both to live in peace, especially if the Batarians never found them. Although the Lily Potter Foundation pushed for a build up of the Navy and, indeed, the Alliance Parliament authorized an expansion, it was only minor. The aliens were too far away to worry about, most people believed, eighty billion citizens mostly content to live their own lives until something disturbed their peaceful routines.

Now, those tens of billions of people had watched the massacre of a peaceful mining base by ruthless aliens.

The Golden Age was over, tarnished by renewed specter of war as just over two centuries of peaceful exploration and expansion came to an end with the first shots of a new conflict.

* * *

 **Early 27th Jan.**

As soon as she had her ship safely in the docking cradle, engineers were swarming over it to examine the damage. Not only was repairing her ship a high priority from a morale perspective but the Stellar Alliance Navy was very interested in seeing what kinds of damage was inflicted by their enemies. There were both defensive and offensive sides to analyze, to ensure maximum effectiveness of the Navy in the war to come.

The captain, however, had been pulled away from her precious ship to report to the Admiralty. Since she and her vessel were civilian not military, their legal ability to order her around was a gray matter. However, her boss, and great-grandfather, Harry Potter, owner of the Foundation that chartered the starship, did have the ability to order her to appear and cooperate with their inquiry.

The looks she got as she walked the corridors of Navy HQ were mixed, to say the least. Some appeared to resent her, as if she were the one who had brought the aliens down upon humanity, but the majority seemed intensely curious beneath their professional masks. She hoped her own mask hid her reactions to their stares.

She arrived at the portal where the Board were meeting, with a pair of Marines standing guard. They obviously recognized her but still checked her identity exactly as they were supposed to. When the DNA scanner, always the slowest piece of equipment, confirmed she was herself thirty seconds later, they let her in. She took an unobtrusive breath to steady her nerves.

What she saw as she looked at each of the people on the Board blew away the little calm she had gained. Not one of the Admirals, all of them were there waiting to talk to her. The tension eased, a little, when she saw both Harry Potter and Hermione, her namesake, sitting in the front row of the audience and the older witch giving her that same gentle smile she remembered from her childhood.

Three grueling hours later, the Board took a recess to consider her testimony and the famous pair came up to her. Hermione hugged her bushy haired ancestor who rubbed small circles on her back as she shivered from the adrenaline leaving her system. Harry cleared his throat quietly and the ship captain noticed that the noise from the crowd had vanished during the hug.

"I thought you could use a break." Harry explained to his great-granddaughter's questioning gaze. "I wanted to say I am proud of you. You got your ship back home safe with all her crew. We can always replace the ship and people are more important than equipment."

"Thank you, sir."

"Sir? I'm hurt!" Harry pouted.

"Sorry, I mean thank you, Grandfather. It means a lot to me."

"I thought it might." Harry grinned. "And it's still true." He let out an 'Oof!' when she gave him a rib-cracking hug too. "I swear she gets that from you." He teased his wife, accepting the glare before she softened and joined them.

* * *

 **Late 27th Jan**

"So what are you going to do now?" Harry asked her later over a private dinner between the three of them.

"What do you mean, Grandpa?" The young woman hid her nervousness behind the informal mode of address, though it did no good.

"You have a few new options ahead of you, dear. The Navy is going to go through a massive expansion due to what happened in Calvera, obviously. The response to discovering the Batarians was nothing compared to what we'll see now. An emergency bill has already passed to authorize a new shipbuilding program for them, starting with building a hundred new long-range cruisers for finding their territory as well as sixty missile-heavy battlecruisers and screening elements, doubling their strength in that class, just on the basis of what we saw. Certain elements, such as your favorite Grandpa, are pushing for even more than that. There will be plenty of supply runs so there will be no shortage of work for you if you want it, whether on the Navy runs or elsewhere."

His wife took over smoothly. "Likewise, they will be wanting to get their hands on as many trained spacers as they can get to crew the new ships. You have experience with these aliens, too. They've already sent out feelers asking if you would be interested in joining up."

"You mean they want me as a mascot, don't you?" Hermione the younger bit out.

"There is some element of that in their thinking, I'm sure." Harry admitted easily. "And in many ways, I can see their point. It would make the military's job easier of keeping support for the war for however long it takes if they can say you joined up. However, they want you for more than just your fame. Trust me, they know better than to lie to _us_."

It was a matter of public record that the Lily Potter Foundation was one of the Navy's strongest corporate supporters and partners on many building programs. The new warship construction would be no different and the Foundation expected to make a nice little profit, though not too nice. Profiteering from the war would have been short-sighted at best. The lines between the Navy's Bureau of Ships and Bureau of Weapons and the Foundation's Space Research and Development Division had been blurred since the Foundation had championed the Navy's creation, no matter how much certain quarters complained. It was unavoidable given how much work the Foundation did in the field and how steadfast they supported the Navy.

His wife smiled at their descendant. "In fact, they were hinting about putting you on a fast track to captain of your own ship in the Navy. They're looking at creating a course to let merchant captains bring their ship handling skills to their side of the street."

"It was something they have had on the books for a while but they never had a reason before to use the emergency measure. As I'm sure you understand, that's all changed." Harry explained, taking advantage of his descendant's surprised silence. "I have seen our estimates of the new budget. They're hoping to complete the new program in six months. We doubt they'll be able to make it, mostly due to the training bottleneck, but we're going to do our best to help them meet their deadline."

"So it's certain it's war?" The younger woman wasn't sure how she felt about that. Certainly, she wanted to make those aliens pay for killing her friends and colleagues. However, could they win? How many more people would die fighting them? Would it be worth it? No one knew the answers she needed.

"As long as they refuse to talk to us, as long as they make no effort to try to coexist, what choice do we have?" Harry asked gently, knowing that few people alive in the SA had any real idea of what war was like. That ignorance was the price of their Golden Age. "We know they use radio band transmissions but they didn't reply at all. A naval task force is already on the way to Calvera to see what can be found."

The younger woman nodded.

"To get back on topic, dear, what do you think? Harry and I will back whatever choice you make but you should decide soon if you can."

"And if I can't decide?"

"There will always be a place for you with the Foundation, honey. You're family and we always make sure that our family have the skills to succeed." Harry addressed her actual concern rather than answering her question directly.

Hermione Anne Potter, captain of the _Star Witch_ , felt a surge of relief at that. At some level, she had feared that the Potter Clan would condemn her for cowardly running from battle, despite the way her ship had no business being anywhere near one. The support of the undisputed head of the Clan, the man who had forced the Wizarding World to rejoin humanity, meant there was no chance of that.

With that worry magically cleared up, she was able to look at her options with a fresh mind. Although she would miss the _Star Witch_ , she had lost friends in the battle. She was going to make sure the aliens paid for what they did.

* * *

 **Late Jan 27th**

As it happened, the task force had just left for Calvera. Their departure had been delayed, partly from shock at what the aliens had done, partly from the simple need to assemble the ships, relay their orders and get them on their way. Rather than rush out with the handful of anti-pirate ships that were always kept ready, Admiral Jones decided to hold out for greater weight of metal to respond. There was no one left to rescue anyway.

As they hit FTL, Jones considered his temporary command. A full three squadrons of eight cruisers escorting one squadron of battlecruisers with a screen of thirty-two destroyers, it was the largest attack force in Navy history. 'And if those aliens are still there, we may just need them.'

A part of him was justifiably worried at just what they were getting into. First Contact with aliens who could be part of a galaxy-spanning empire or simple pirates, who knew what resources they had behind them. However, he had volunteered for the Navy for a reason and he'd be damned before he let anyone attack his people.

His staff were busy putting together what little intel they had on the aliens for planning a battle if they were still there. Jones didn't know if he expected they would stick around. On the one hand, the defenders were dead and the aliens had taken losses of their own. If they were human, they might want to retreat and lick their wounds. They weren't human, though. On the other hand, they might have stayed to examine the colony, even try to get samples of SA technology.

Two hours later, the fleet came out of FTL and launched a swarm of recon drones ahead of them. Jones kept a stoic face as he waited for the data to come in.

"They've gone, Captain!" The lieutenant at sensors called out to his flag captain.

"I heard." Jones told the woman wryly when she looked at him. "Send marines in to examine the main facility and then detail the destroyers to rendezvous with the ships we lost and deploy the replacement drones-"

"Sir?" The same lieutenant interrupted him nervously.

Jones paused and gave him permission to speak.

"Admiral Jones, sir, the drones have spotted the aliens' wrecks. They didn't take them with them."

"Very good, Lieutenant Compton. Message the fleet. The alien vessels have top priority. If we can, I want to take them back home for study. Send in shuttles with clones only. Keep all other vessels beyond any possible blast radius and ensure all safety precautions are taken. Shuttles are to be abandoned at the first sign of contamination."

"Aye, aye, Admiral."

Admiral Jones forced himself to sit back and appear to be calm and relaxed, despite his burning curiosity. If circumstances were different, it would be his clones going into the enemy ships, his clones first to see the faces of these murdering aliens, his the first to discover what awaited humanity and its allies. He wouldn't quite trade his rank for the chance but it was a close call.

Jones was far from the only one to look up when video from the first of the clones reached one of the alien craft. The admiral was, however, one of the few who could take the time to watch as they landed on the hull and cut their way through. Around him, his flag captain ran her ship and his staff worked on their various jobs as the clones entered ship, a monster at over seven hundred meters long.

At least, it had been until the colony's defenses savaged it. Now, there were great tears dozens of meters long running down its side and gaping holes in the armor. "It's strange. You would expect an alien race capable of building such a behemoth would make more use out of its size. If we had all that surface area available, you can bet we would mount more weapons and better armor than that."

The admiral had realized he was speaking his thoughts but didn't think anyone had overheard him until his flag captain quietly replied, "It is almost as if they don't use space expansion."

"You're right. However, the possibilities were already inherent in mass effect technology. Surely even if they did lack wizards of their own, they would have incorporated it once they learned to use element zero?"

"That is what we would do. They are aliens, sir."

Jones conceded the point, musing as he waited for more information to come in. It was quickly apparent that Captain Norman was right. There was no sign of any space expansion, no sign of anything too far beyond their own abilities, things that were in principle comprehensible to the scientists and engineers who would study it later. 'Not that we can be sure of that without capturing some of their designers.'

While his hastily drawn up fleet searched the system and the clones examined the enemy ships, Jones considered his next moves. He was confident that his ships would defeat the aliens if they came back in the same strength as last time but just as confident that they wouldn't do that. Either they wouldn't return at all or they would return in greater numbers.

His job was to find out all he could, hopefully before the aliens returned.

* * *

 **Feb 5th**

As it turned out, it was a stressful week for Admiral Jones and his crews. Having to keep the crews at heightened readiness was going to do that already but the prospect of facing off against aliens was more than enough to ensure there was little grumbling at that command. There had been a single scare when a small alien vessel had dropped out of FTL on the outskirts of the system then flashed away again later without ever coming within extreme weapons range, though no one knew what its purpose was.

"Yes?"

"Admiral, there is a priority communication from Earth for you."

"Put it through." Jones tidied up his desk quickly in the few seconds before he was looking at the face of his boss.

"Jones. Anything further to report?" Fleet Admiral Robb asked without preamble.

"No. The Turians," he replied, tasting the unfamiliar name, "weren't as incompetent about securing their technology as we had initially hoped. The few bodies and body parts we found hidden aboard the salvaged ships are all in stasis now and Medical has sent on their autopsy results. Certainly, we can't do anything further here with the Turian samples we have. We don't have the facilities or the experts for that, however much I hate speaking ill of my people. They just aren't trained for that. We're also ready to return the ashes of the civilians to their next of kin now that magical forensics have finished identification."

"I expected as much. Freighters are en route to your location to ferry the wrecks back to Alpha Base. The remains will be returned as soon as possible. While certain elements might like to retain the ashes for further study, there is nothing we could gain from the delay that would be worth the cost. Better to bring them home and study the aliens instead."

"Sir, with all due respect, is that the wisest decision? I know they have better facilities there to examine the wrecks but perhaps a more isolated research station would be safer." Jones bit his tongue after that. Even if the pair had a good working relationship, jumping over his boss' decision like that wasn't smart. Obviously, the stress had worn on him more than he'd thought.

Thankfully for him, Robb was more understanding than some others would have been in his place. "It would be safer but we want those wrecks secured just in case these Turians return and force you from the system. Once the new deep space research facility is ready for them, they'll be transferred there for study."

"Sorry, sir. I should have expected that there was more to the orders." 'And I shouldn't have been so foolish as to speak like that on a comm channel.'

"Quite alright. You and your people have done good work out there. Just so you know, the freighters' escort is under the command of Commodore Bell." The admiral smiled at the surprise on Jones' face. "I'm sure the two of you will find working together to be no hardship."

"Not at all! And thank you, sir."

Jones' relationship with the decorative but also competent officer was an open secret in the Navy. As long as he didn't openly flaunt the regulations or let their performance suffer, Admiral Robb was prepared to give them a pass. Besides, they had worked well together in the past. He didn't expect they would let him down now.

"See that I don't regret my choice. Fleet Command out."

* * *

 **Feb 5th**

Han Doran liked the status he got working as a semi-independent prospector for the Elkoss Combine. The Volus-owned and run corporation was sensible, making cheaper versions for the mass market rather than trying to produce the very best quality and only selling to the very rich. This had made the corporation far richer than many of their competitors and they had leveraged that wealth into power over politicians and bureaucrats on hundreds of worlds.

It was that power that led to them being granted first rights on the Calvera system. And when Doran had found interlopers at the system, he had been understandably upset. He didn't care why they had been there or what their excuses would have been. They had clearly stolen his ticket to the good life! What good were the words of aliens who had no credits to spend? Even worse when they had shot at him, or so he had claimed to his superiors when he had returned from the initial inspection. He didn't care who had moved into the system, only that their presence was blocking the development of the resources for the Combine, and his 0.01% cut of the profits.

Now, he was having to spend his influence like water to get the higher-ups to go back to Calvera. The prospect of more combat in the system, even though the Turians had wiped out the claim-jumpers, was dousing the usual greed that normally dominated the decision-making process. At this rate, it would be a month or more before they even sent a follow-up vessel. Worse, he might not be on it, which would hurt his claims for the profits to be made.

The one universal constant, it seemed, was bureaucracy and bureaucrats screwing everything up. Not even a prospector for the powerful Elkoss Combine was immune to its effects.

* * *

 **Feb 22nd**

Now that humanity had a name for their opponents and, more importantly, samples of their equipment to analyze, they were finding similarities between them and the Batarians, the first aliens they had discovered a few years earlier.

While they were not the same race, something that became obvious once the first Turian bodies were discovered, they did share much of their technology base in common, including certain communication protocols. It was clear that they were in contact with the Turian aggressors, though just what their relationship was remained unclear.

From there, the analysis of the Batarians became a major priority for the Alliance's intelligence services only slightly behind the Turians themselves. The Potter Foundation helped out, diverting half a dozen transports to deliver more spy probes, a new covert model that they would risk closer in to any targets, built not only with an integrated FTL comm but also with an updated self-destruct system among other security features in case of discovery.

Within a week, the Alliance's Office of Naval Intelligence had tentatively concluded that the Turians could not see any cold target with their sensors. Without that active electromagnetic emission, it seemed that Alliance ships and assets should be relatively safe from being detected. The civilians' own attempts to make peaceful contact had enabled the aliens to target and kill them.

It didn't make sense for the Turians' sensors to be so weak. Surely any space-faring civilization would have developed more sophisticated sensors. But the evidence appeared to show otherwise. The captured hardware that they had gotten working was poor by human standards at finding anything that wasn't a beacon of thermal energy against the background of space, though maybe the Turians were better at extracting information from their poor hardware than Alliance engineers believed possible.

One explanation was that their own ships, from the Batarians to the lumbering ship that first showed up at Calvera to the Turian warships, all were fiercely radiating in the thermal bands as a result of their own movements. They had no need for better sensors when everyone they dealt with had the same problem at hiding their emissions. One analyst was of the opinion that it was their barriers that made hiding their emissions such a difficult proposition, though the jury was still out on that, and it would remain that way until humanity managed to build their own versions.

The real jewel was the computers from the aliens' wreckage. Now that they could compare, there were similarities apparent in the designs between the ruins found on Mars and the efforts to decipher the Prothean ruins proved to be a useful starting point for analyzing the Turian hardware. It quickly became clear that the Prothean hardware, despite being nearly fifty thousand years old, was still superior to the Turian, a fact borne out by the way that the new technology was within the grasp of human reverse engineering efforts, if barely.

Within the memory storage of the computers, researchers found a lot of dross as well as some immediately useful items, the first being the home base for this particular group of ships, Patrol Group 1701, with its location given both in terms of which jumps were used as well as its distance in relation to certain neutron stars, fixing its position in the galaxy. The reference stars were known to the Alliance and the jumps seemed to use the odd tuning fork artifacts. While getting more information on the jump network was nice, it was the location of the alien base that was the goldmine.

Further digging found some basic information on the size of the Notchimus base which lay 1500 light years, four jumps, away from the Calvera system and was home to its own minor ship repair yard. This made it a major target for the Alliance as removing that base would cripple Turian force projection towards Alliance space.

For whatever reason, the aliens were averse to getting too far from their jump gates, and indeed, Calvera had been near the limit of their reach. Once they got rid of Notchimus base and deconstructed the gateways that lay close to Alliance space, they would be that much safer from further attacks.

Without its removal, too much of the Alliance Navy would be relegated to defense, as useless to winning the war as if they'd been destroyed. With Notchimus gone, they could free up far more of their fleet to go on the offensive, making sure they seized and retained the initiative, and ultimately saving the lives of the people they were sworn to protect.

Some in the Navy pushed to capture the base, and its shipyard, intact but this was out of the question. From what little could be gleaned from the Turian computers, the base, barely a minor one by their enemy's standards, still supported over a hundred ships on patrol and had its own defense platforms. There would be hundreds or thousands of defenders, unknown defenses and traps and the enemy's fleet could come in at any time, forcing them to retreat and unable to deny the enemy their forward base.

A recon mission was authorized, Commodore Bell to command it now that she was back from escorting the salvaged Turian ships, leading her own squadron of destroyers to deploy sensor drones in the target system.

It was certainly impressive, Commodore Bell admitted to herself in the privacy of her own mind. The Turian Hierarchy, as they now knew their opponent to be, were an old spacefaring race, at least compared to those from Earth, who had been around a long time. The defenses on the base reflected that fact, with a shoal of torpedo launchers guarding it from close in and twenty ships on patrol further out. None of them were as large as the monster that had attacked at Calvera and they seemed to operate in small packs for mutual support. They had looked for the butchers of Calvera with no success, not that the odds were in their favor, but information about the base was her primary mission here. Not that command would have objected if she did see and shoot the bastards, of course.

"Time to get out of here. Make sure the comm buoys are working at 100% then we're leaving. Comms, make sure the other ships know the plan."

"Aye aye, Ma'am. Whisker lasers already online and message sent. Estimate ten minutes until we can receive confirmation."

"Very good." She watched impassively as the timer ticked down to zero, holding back the sense of relief she felt when the other ships, now scattered across the Notchimus system, acknowledged her orders. Five minutes later, they were into FTL, hopefully with the Turians none the wiser.

Only time would tell.

By the time she got back to Alpha base, it was clear that the Turians had noticed something. Apparently, even their crap sensors weren't blind to the flash of someone entering FTL. However, they had ignored the comm buoys and spy probes left in the system, objects that were as interesting in the thermal bands as so many small rocks, something that all systems had from the days of their creation. Once again, the Cooling Charms seemed to shield them from detection and plans were brought forward to ensure that everything the Navy had was thus protected.

When an intensive search of their system out to the equivalent of Jupiter's orbit turned up nothing of note in the following three days, the ships returned to their normal patrol patterns, all except for one that continued to search for whatever had been there.

The Alliance Parliament pronounced it good enough and Operation Blitz was a go.

The first requirement for the operation was getting enough ships. For this, the Navy had pulled in fifteen battlecruisers, five hundred meters externally from bow to stern brimming with missile ports. Accompanying them were fifty destroyers, a hundred meters of the best sensors, point defense lasers and mass accelerator cannons that could be fitted to the more limited surface area of the design, and twenty assorted cruisers as their screen. It was expected that these forces would be ample for dealing with the defending ships, though the base might be a different story.

The second was a plan. Monitoring of the Notchimus system showed that ships left and arrived at all hours but that there were regular lull periods over a 28-hour cycle, possibly indicating the aliens' day-night cycle. During that period, fewer ships arrived and none left. Obviously, the Alliance chose to time their attack for the beginning of the putative sleep period, when fewer ships would be available to defend the base and it was possible that the defenders would be less alert.

By arriving at a large fraction of lightspeed relative to the defenders, straining the Cooling Charms to the limit, they would further reduce the amount of warning when they launched the missiles. Each ship would launch as many missiles as they could control, though light speed delays would render that control arthritic before the missiles engaged the enemy. At that point, they would have to hand over control to the missiles' own guidance software, hoping that the number of missiles would make up for the lower accuracy that would produce. That and the single 'comm buoy missile' and recon drones they launched to carry back telemetry at FTL speed. Too bad that current tech couldn't handle a two-way connection but a one-way would still cut the lag in half, something the Navy had never had to deploy before. It was expected that it would come as a surprise to the Turians, but they were still sending in enough ships to get the job done no matter what.

The very next 'night' for Notchimus base, the Alliance struck.


	3. Chapter 2 - A Notch in the Defences

**Chapter 2 - A Notch in the Defences**

 **Notchimus base, 23:30 local time. March 18th. 2257**

Attacks from FTL would always come without warning.

Ones from the Relay generally could not, not without overwhelming the defenders on the other end first, and the FTL comms would always alert them for as long as they were around. It was why attackers would place a high priority on disabling those first.

That lack of warning was also why Assistant Tactical Officer Dembius was stuck here late in the evening as the senior (and only) officer on watch while techs monitored the various readouts. There were no scheduled arrivals for the next two hours and no Turian captain would leave the base without consulting with the Admiral in charge of the base. Since that honorable Turian was asleep, and no sane captain would disturb an admiral's rest without a pressing reason, that meant no ships would be departing Notchimus for the next seven to eight hours.

In short, Dembius' presence was there for only two reasons, because The Book said there always had to be an officer on duty in the Command and Control center, and because there was always a chance of something unexpected happening. It was dull, monotonous duty at best, with the only interruption to the routine when some ship or other dropped in unexpectedly. Not that such a thing happened often. The aforementioned admiral disliked such surprises and calling ahead was a simple enough matter even for merchant captains.

All of which is why, despite Dembius' dutiful presence and attention to orders, he was shocked out of his chair when the automatic alarm blared.

"Report!" He barked at the sensor technician who had dropped his caf all over his lap.

"Sir! The computers report incoming fire!" The tech's voice was disbelieving. "But sir! There are no ships in sensor range!"

"Focus sensors on the origin of the attack! And someone raise the kinetic barriers already! Comms, get me the Admiral's quarters."

"Yes, sir!"

Despite the Admiral's age, he still remembered from basic training the trick to waking in a hurry. He had answered the call before the comm tech finished reporting it to Dembius. "Dembius. Why in Palaven's name have you woken me up?"

"We're under attack, sir. And-" Dembius paused to glance at the readouts "-and whoever they are, they don't show on our sensors. Thermal is completely dark except for some background noise. Nor have they transmitted anything."

Indeed, the Alliance had decided that doing so would only warn the bastards, would only risk Alliance casualties without giving anything in return. Besides, the Turians had thought themselves too good to talk to the Alliance before. Time for them to feel what it was like.

Hard on the heels of Dembius' call, the first wave of missiles arrived at the point defense envelope for the base and the frigates stationed there. While they couldn't completely blank the heat signatures of their missiles, the glow of collisions with interplanetary dust saw to that, they had enchanted most of them with cooling charms on their nose. Those missiles were a far harder target for the defenders to stop than the ones without, something that saw the 'hot' missiles drawing most of the fire. Even these missiles, however, performed better than at Calvera. In part, there were just so many more of them, but a small part was due to the modifications to their ECM suites to better adapt them to Turian defenses. Alliance R&D was already working to improve that even further but there simply hadn't been time to do more than the absolute basics.

Not that it was needed.

Out of one thousand six hundred missiles sent out, only three hundred hadn't been enchanted before the attack. Turian point defense, while not as technically advanced as Salarian, was still recognized as being a tough nut to crack. What it lacked in the sophistication of the Salarians it made up for in quantity and Notchimus Base showed that then as its banks of lasers fired. The point defense lasers were able to fire three times before the missiles activated. Only eleven of the missiles made it through the outer engagement zone into their attack range. Two of those were fooled by the defenders' electronic warfare and attacked mirages. One had lost sensor lock and fired its lasers at an unfortunate frigate whose engines were pointed almost directly at the wayward missile, making it the easiest target, and receiving the full brunt of the X-ray lasers, slicing through the armor and irradiating the interior even as it vaporized the engines and melted more of the ship. The final eight blasted deep into the base's hangars, vaporizing a lot of armor and sending power surges through nearby systems, but not doing any critical damage.

The 'cold' missiles had a much easier time. Not only were the defenses not aiming at them, the computers painting them as decoys in most cases, but there were more of them too, swamping the targeting computers that finally deemed them a threat when they breached the defense zone themselves only as the last of the 'hot' missiles fired.

The difference was terrible. One minute, Notchimus Base was there, lasers blazing away as they showed the dedication and might of the Turian Hierarchy even in an out-of-the-way corner of the galaxy such as this. The next, the base, and the asteroid it was built into, was a cloud of expanding debris.

The survivors of the first hundred and fifty missiles to get through had fired as one, massive overkill distributed across the shipyard, the C&C, the massive barracks and commercial facilities that had grown up to service the base. The integrated comm buoy, placed at the heart of the base's defenses for added protection, was hit by fifteen missiles alone. The following two waves, two hundred and sixty-one survivors out of three hundred missiles, wasted their fury on the corpse of the base, adding little to the devastation already in progress.

The remaining missiles, nearly nine hundred in total, had enough time to switch their attacks to other, lower priority targets. Their accuracy was not the best, having to shift on the fly like this, but the defenders' ECM hadn't had time to bedazzle the missiles either. It was mostly left to the missile's onboard software to try to pick out a target, any target, in the confusion. A pair of Asari-run merchant vessels, delivering the regular supply runs to the base, exploded when missiles designed to kill armored targets hit their engines and Eezo cores, killing all hands.

Of the twenty frigates in the system, one was down for repairs, one dying with the base it was supposed to protect and one more out inspecting the other side of the system looking for the Alliance recon force whose departure they had seen days before. The remaining seventeen didn't stand a chance.

The Alliance's attack had been overkill from the outset, not that they had expected their victory to be this complete. Half a dozen Turian frigates had simply disappeared in the conflagration. The other eleven were more 'fortunate' ones who had been shielded by their brothers or just by the base itself from view, still retaining their overall shape but their systems failing even as the senior officers watched.

"Well, that was anticlimactic." Admiral Luber said dryly as he watched the destruction of the last of the enemy ships. "Bring the fleet to a halt and make sure the last ship doesn't get away to warn the others." Admiral Luber ordered when his fleet received the light-speed reports of the destruction half an hour later, his ships still decelerating from their high velocity back to normal.

"Aye, aye, sir. Battlecruiser Squadron Nine is taking care of it. They will have calculated the micro-jump in five minutes." His flag captain replied.

"Efficient as ever." Admiral Luber complimented her. "Now to wait for the full take from the drones we sent in. With luck, we'll be able to identify the ships that were on station before we dropped in unannounced. I'm sure we'd all be pleased to discover that we nailed the bastards responsible for Calvera."

The growl of his bridge crew was his answer.

The Admiral's hope would be for naught, however. Although the lone enemy frigate's destruction went off without a hitch, leaving no known means for the enemy to know what had happened to their base, none of the specific ships they were after had been present for the fireworks. Before they were ordered to return, the fleet had ambushed another thirty standard ships and half a dozen of the big ones they'd seen at the massacre of Calvera.

It hadn't been one big battle, either, but a series of smaller ones at odd hours without warning. Thanks to that, they now knew better just what it took to take down the enemy. Just one really good missile hit would take a smaller ship, tentatively labeled as cruiser by the Alliance until the translation teams did their work, out of the fight, while two or three missiles hitting with their lasers would guarantee a kill. For the larger ships, it took three to six hits. All of which meant that, with their hit ratios, they had massively overshot the needed lethality to clear out the Notchimus system. One hundred missiles would have killed the cruisers and a further ninety to wreck the base, instead of using over eight times that number.

While they had performed admirably, the Alliance wanted them to come home. Admiral Luber hated to contemplate the thought but he knew that Command would plunder his crews ruthlessly, spreading his now blooded people across the fleet to share their experience. Besides, their missile stocks were running low after how many ships they had shot to pieces and there was more salvage to examine, disabled Turian ships for the engineers back home to take apart.

Sadly, no prisoners had been taken. The few ships that hadn't been damaged too badly for survivors had been defended by fanatics who had fought to the last. Not that the Marines' clones sent in by the Alliance had cared. Every Turian soldier they killed now was one more who could never threaten a child. The ships and wreckage were then towed by use of mass effect fields into a central place ready for collection. Alliance R&D was already salivating at the prospect of more stuff to work on, enough that they could even conduct weapons tests on it.

As the freighters decelerated out of FTL a good light-minute away from the fleet, already nervously broadcasting their IFF as soon as they set foot in a combat zone, Luber smiled. A chance to resupply sounded damned good right now. And another target to follow it, of course.

* * *

 **March 21st**

Back in Alliance space, morale both military and civilian was riding high after the initial fear. Somehow, estimates of just how large the Turian fleet was had been leaked to the public, something that had sent the markets into freefall when people discovered that their defenders were outnumbered up to a hundred to one, or worse. This had been countered only a day later by footage of the Battle of Notchimus, as it was already being called.

So the return, unharmed, of the fleet that had won that victory was something to celebrate. Quietly, the Navy increased orders for missiles. They simply didn't have enough missiles in stock to deal with the existing Turian fleet and no one wanted to risk the relatively few Alliance ships in close combat with the Turians if they could defeat them at long range. No one with any sense wanted that, anyway. There were still some hotheads who wanted their valiant defenders to prove their courage (and stupidity) by standing up to Turian fire. They were drowned out by the voices of those who preferred victory and the soldiers coming back alive, thank you very much.

While IT specialists of all sorts studied the Turian electronics that had been brought back, hunting for anything useful to the war effort, Admiral Luber's command was paraded as war heroes. And behind all of it, government and industrial leaders were scrambling to turn the Stellar Alliance onto a wartime footing. War bonds had been issued and taken up eagerly by a confident public, people looking forward to teaching the 'birdies' a lesson, and recruitment offices for the Army and Navy were swamped by volunteers.

As Harry had promised his descendant, the Foundation's merchant ships were busier than they had ever been. Unfortunately, he had been ordered point blank to turn over his own shipyards to Navy use. He had protested the order, trying to reserve some of that capacity for producing more civilian ships if only to build more freighters for ferrying cargo around, but had been overruled by the Alliance High Court. Oh, the freighters were being built, alright, but they were military models, five times more expensive thanks to the defenses incorporated into their designs, and correspondingly slower to build.

Prices on every Alliance world were already rising for imported goods as a result. That spike of inflation shocked one shipyard loose from the Navy's grip, and they'd already laid down a dozen new freighters at the yard, but the new ships wouldn't be ready for another month. When they _were_ ready, they'd be able to take up the slack, however, since they had larger holds than previous models, something which the Navy eagerly wanted to get their hands on.

Harry was also spending money like water starting the construction of another two shipyards and expanding existing ones in anticipation of demand he could already see coming. Happily for Harry's sake, he and his family had been accumulating wealth for over two centuries now, and they could afford to bankroll the investment, even under wartime wages for the crews. Well, they could if the shipyards were used like Harry expected.

He wasn't having everything his own way, however. Wizards and witches, who for centuries had looked to the Foundation first for employment, were also volunteering for military service creating gaps in his organization. Sensing blood, his competitors also moved in, offering lucrative packages and the promise that they would make a difference in the war effort, even if they never saw action themselves.

The chance of helping to win the war without getting their hands dirty did appeal to some, though Harry managed to retain most of his magical workforce through coming close to matching his competitors' offers of pay and conditions, and his personal promise that everyone staying would contribute to the Alliance's victory more than those who wanted to leave. He also opened up more space jobs for the magically adept despite his historical hesitance to expose the generally less technically minded group to the hazards of vacuum. There, their skills would be used to accelerate and enhance the ships taking shape. Lastly, he offered to match their purchases of element zero with his own for the next sixty days and at pre-war prices. One of the more surprising results of the early testing of the substance had shown it to be an amplifier for magic. Wands incorporating trace amounts of Eezo were more powerful than those without, less picky about who could wield them, and even moderately rich wizards owned wands made of the stuff. Most, however, loved it for the way that it would charge up their household wards. That fact alone made it more valuable in these worrying times.

Element zero, however, was essential to FTL travel and nearly as important for dozens of other purposes. As such, the price had already taken off since the attack on Calvera and Harry's offer meant an enterprising individual could make a small fortune if they stayed, or buy it to bolster their own power or safety, not a small consideration, either.

The economic upheavals of the Alliance were covered up, for the moment, by the excitation of war driving demand for everything. While groups across the worlds struggled to keep inflation from getting out of control, the government were forced to print more money to keep up. So long as nothing went wrong on the military side, Harry was cautiously optimistic that they could make the transition to a smoother wartime economy.

However, in war, there are always surprises.

* * *

 **March 22nd**

Councilor Sparatus was having a hard time keeping himself under control. Well, that wasn't true. He was already pacing his private, sealed office and had banned all visitors no matter who they were until he calmed down while he swore a streak that should have blistered the paint. He was having a hard time keeping himself from tearing apart his office in his frustration and rage.

"…TEN THOUSAND GOOD TURIAN SPACERS MISSING PRESUMED DEAD ALONG WITH THEIR SHIPS! ANOTHER EIGHT THOUSAND GONE FROM NOTCHIMUS BASE! AND NOT ONE PERSON IN THE ENTIRE NAVAL INTELLIGENCE DIVISION HAS A FUCKING CLUE HOW IT HAPPENED!" He ranted at the walls.

That wasn't quite true, either. Automatic telemetry from the comm buoy had included the base's defenses coming online, its _close-in_ defenses, in the seconds before the base went silent. From that, even a Vorcha could work out that the base had been attacked and destroyed. Unfortunately, there was no evidence as to who had done it.

More than a score of other ships had been sucked up by whatever had taken out the base and its defenders, ships returning from their own patrols of the mostly empty sectors out in that part or the Orion Arm. At least, they _had_ been mostly empty. Obviously, someone had moved into the area and with sufficient strength of arms and will to challenge the might of the Turian Hierarchy.

Whoever they were, they weren't advertising the fact. For the moment, very few in Citadel space was even aware that the base had been hit. Unfortunately for Sparatus' blood pressure, that didn't exclude the other two on the Citadel Council.

Councilor Tevos of the Asari Republics had to be informed since two of her people's cargo ships had been destroyed along with the base by whoever had been behind the attack and she would need to make arrangements.

The third Councilor, Dalatrass Linron of the Salarian Union, hadn't needed to be told. The Special Tasks Group were infamous throughout the galaxy for the reach of their information networks and the Council had long tolerated that state of affairs so long as they remembered their place, providing the needed information to the Council which made the decisions for their three governments as well as for the other Citadel races. Somehow, their own Councilor got the juiciest tidbits of information just enough ahead of the other two to be useful but never enough to be truly offensive.

Then again, it wasn't like the other two Council races were innocent in that regard. The Turians had their fleet, a vast fleet that patrolled the galaxy and concentrated naturally on military threats to the status quo. They regularly discovered useful information in the course of their peacekeeping duties, however, information which the Primarchs and their Councilor used to advance Turian interests.

And the Asari had people everywhere, as well as technological parity with the Salarians and long-standing agreements with just about every major faction. Including his own, Sparatus told himself once more. The unique method of Asari reproduction led to them literally sleeping with members of just about every known race. The intelligence potential of such a thing could not be overstated, their long lives granting them time to ingratiate themselves _from birth_ with multiple generations of the same family, always trusted, always there, always able to slip information back to the Matriarchs that truly led the Republics.

As annoying as it was that the two women knew of the embarrassing defeat that the Turian Navy had suffered, it was hardly a surprise. He took a long, cleansing breath, cleaned himself up then strolled out of his office. A glance at his now calmed aide told her to set up a meeting with Tevos and Linron.

It was time to start doing something about this outrage. Maybe the women would have a better idea of who did it than he did. Spirits knew someone had to.

And if they could tell him who was behind it? Well, then he would be able to vent his frustration and rage upon truly deserving targets, ones who were safer and saner to attack than his allies.

The Primarchs back home in Turian space were already mobilizing their investigating teams, their equivalent of the STG, no action had been needed from Sparatus for that and so he had been left feeling useless and helpless, something no Turian enjoyed let alone their Councilor. The Council of Primarchs had also placed the Hierarchy on a higher alert, They shared his eagerness to teach these unknowns why the Turian military had dominated the galaxy for over twelve Turian centuries.

* * *

 **April 5th**

"Action would be most precipitate at this juncture, Sparatus." Tevos replied, again, to the Turian's call to do something, anything, in retaliation for the destruction of the Notchimus base.

"Indeed. The STG reports no sign that the warlords in the Terminus Systems have stopped feuding with one another or any other evidence that they are behind the incident." That wouldn't stop the Council claiming they _were_ guilty if they decided the Terminus Systems needed to be brought to heel.

Such a thing wasn't likely to happen here, however, as neither the Asari nor the Salarians felt a need to teach the foreigners their place. The region had been fairly, well not peaceful as such, not towards each other, but their infighting had left little room for making trouble with the Citadel races. Just the way the Council liked it, really, which is why Tevos and Linron didn't want to stir up trouble.

"We need to do something, Councilors. That much is clear, I trust?"

"STG teams are already looking for answers."

"As are our own people." Tevos added in that so reasonable tone of hers.

"How many Spectres can we assign to this?" Sparatus' mandibles clacked as he saw the pair's reactions. "You know we must pull some of them. Ten would be a good start."

"Three." Linron countered immediately.

"Three?!"

"Three." Linron was unmoved by Sparatus' emotions. "Few Spectres work well together. Their… methods tend not to mesh well."

"You mean they're unwilling to bend enough to let someone else lead." Sparatus corrected the Dalatrass. "Their egos get too large to fit two of them in the same city, let alone the same case."

"Blunt but accurate enough, even for your own people who join their ranks. It's one reason we don't give them financial support in addition to the legal freedoms they receive, otherwise they'd get even more arrogant." Tevos replied calmly.

"Irrelevant." Linron interjected, her gaze sharp on Sparatus. "We don't have many suspects who have the firepower, the motivation and the support to survive the response they would get."

"As much as certain people might claim, pirates simply don't have the resources or, frankly, the interest in attacking established naval bases. There's no profit in it and all loss so they just won't try it. They would have to be backed by some government or major corporation who would guarantee to make it profitable for the pirate band. And that brings us to the next category. One of the major mercenary outfits _would_ be able to take out a base if they can board it first, but that's not what happened here, and they lack the assets to attack from space like this, so they can be ruled out.

"Lastly, the governments themselves. None of us would do it. "

"Of course not." Sparatus replied, keeping any trace of doubt out of his response. While they might well kill their allies to protect a big enough secret, there was nothing like that anywhere near Notchimus. The area simply wasn't that important to any of their races, being nearer to the Batarians than any other known race.

"Likewise, there are the various associate and member races. To start with, I think we can all dismiss the idea that the Hanar are behind it." Tevos continued.

"Or the Elcor or Volus. None of those races have the military capability." Linron finished.

"No, they don't. They aren't talented at the kind of thinking needed to hide their military movements." Needless to say, the Salarian Union certainly _were_ suited to that if they felt the need. Happily for the Council, Linron recognized not only the implied comparison but also that Sparatus truly didn't believe her people were behind the attack so she took no offense.

"The Quarians have the fleet for it." Tevos offered.

"Their Migrant Fleet is on the other side of the galaxy. They're closer to Omega than they are to Batarian space." Linron replied with certainty.

"It's probably safer for the suit rats, at that." Sparatus mentioned. "As for the Batarians?"

Tevos shrugged. "While they aren't the most compliant or peaceful of races, I don't see what they would have to gain from this."

"They haven't been working on anything special according to the STG. No missing scientists or money to point at something new, either."

"They don't have many pirates in the area either. There just aren't any juicy targets and the Batarians already control most of the valuable territory. What would they have to gain from an attack on that base which risks our displeasure?"

Sparatus shook his head. He knew all of that already and this discussion was as useless as he had expected it to be. "That is what the ten Spectres will find out. They will also show that this Council values the truth and honors the lives of Turians whose job was protecting the peace."

"Three." Linron repeated her earlier counter-offer. "The Spectres are already working on other tasks. Taking so many off their tasks at once would only spread the news of the Turian problem faster to our enemies without increasing the number of leads they can follow, which is none. Yes, we must investigate this but this is far from the only fire we have to put out or the only one where thousands of deaths are involved. It's a big galaxy and we have too few people truly working for the good of all races." That this 'good' also required whatever was good for the Citadel Council went without saying, but it was the kind of talk that the Asari, and to a lesser extent the public generally, loved.

"Ten. As you say, it's a big galaxy so they will have lots of places to search. And whoever attacked may well grow bolder if they aren't brought to justice quickly. Notchimus wasn't a large base, it is true, but plenty of worlds aren't even a tenth as well defended."

Those worlds weren't Turian worlds, of course. They didn't leave their people so vulnerable and there were few enough dextro worlds in Council space. Their defense didn't take too many of the cruisers and frigates that made up the bulk of the Fleet, leaving most of them available for patrols and peacekeeping duties.

"Seven." Tevos interjected. "Sparatus is right that this matter is important but Linron has a point too. Our resources aren't limitless and Spectres in particular are in short supply and we need them in so many places. Without clear leads, even the best will have to rely on luck more than talent."

"Very well, seven it is." Sparatus agreed after a moment's thought and Linron gave her assent to the arrangement. "I trust you won't protest too much if I assign Saren to the case?"

The other two relaxed as the Council got down to negotiating which Spectres would be pulled, which crises would be abandoned in the hopeless attempt to solve this one. Their suspicions remained with the Terminus races. Whatever tensions there were within the Citadel races, it truly wasn't likely to have been any of them.

* * *

 **April 28th, London.**

Over the following weeks, the Alliance devoted more specialists to cracking the Turian computers. Specifically, they needed to work out how the information was arranged, as so far their efforts were only producing random facts, most of which were useless. Who needed to know what an Elcor toothbrush was like?

They were getting better information, however. Partly through throwing more people at the masses of data collected and partly through creating better search algorithms. The locations of three deep space jump-gates known by the Turians relatively close to Sol were discovered and escorted specialists headed out to disable the devices. No point leaving open such an obvious route for invasion, after all, and the quantities of Eezo and other valuables that could be recovered were nothing to sneeze at, either.

Those efforts would take time, however, to complete the salvage of the devices. Many in the Alliance, both in the Navy and outside it, wanted to use the gates for their own purposes. Sadly, no one knew how. That was one thing among many that the Prothean ruins hadn't mentioned and since their own gate had been broken, they hadn't been able to try on their own.

So while there were people digging for the secret of the gates, such an ability was still in the future. For now, they had to concentrate on what they could do, and that meant that no gate could be allowed in Alliance space.

It was something of a relief for the Navy when the next base was located in the files, even if it would be a tougher nut to crack. Admiral Luber's excessive ammunition usage had come under fire in some quarters when it became clear that increasing production of missiles was going to be harder than they thought.

The missiles required precise tolerances, high grade electronics and an eagle eye on quality control, of course. That wasn't the problem when it came to expanding production to match projected expenditure. They also required other things which were in shorter supply than merely precision engineering.

Despite two hundred and fifty years passing since the reintegration of wizards and witches into society, magical ability was still relatively rare. While up from the thousands to one ratio of the time, there were still hundreds of regular people for every wizard or witch, and plenty of jobs that only they could do well.

The application of magic to high technology was something that required the wizard or witch to understand the technology in question, not just to have mastered the spell they were casting, and that reduced the number of enchanters available considerably. In effect, any enchanter had to have two or more areas of expertise. Their valuable skills were always in demand, too, so very few were available to be snapped up by the company manufacturing the missiles and their components.

Despite certain appearances, the Alliance Navy didn't want to give all its contracts to the Foundation. However, the truth was that if they wanted to make more missiles, and they needed them to prosecute the war, then they needed access to the pool of enchanters the Foundation employed.

And that was a problem because the Foundation's bid had failed in the tender process. Instead, it was one of their competitors, Arthos Systems, who held the contract for all of the Navy's missiles for the next three years but they couldn't supply all the missiles that the Navy now needed. Taking it through the courts with the inevitable delays as the government tried to force a solution was out of the question. They needed those missiles now, not years from now, and Arthos Systems knew it.

The Senior Undersecretary for Defence called the parties in for a meeting. In the meeting, he reiterated the need for more missiles. The Arthos Systems representative made no bones about their opposition to simply handing over the contract without compensation. The Senior Undersecretary assured him that due compensation would be forthcoming, though he made it clear that attempting to get excessive profit from their failure would be unwise.

The Foundation representative, Yvette Potter, rubbed lightly at her wrists where the Allure suppressors were working hard, incidentally drawing the pair's attention to the suppressors and that any feelings they had would not be due to her Veela heritage. The government rep asked if the Foundation would be willing to loan out their personnel for the duration of this crisis.

Yvette counter-offered to make the missiles themselves with their own facilities, mentioning the shipyards they were building as an example of the Foundation's resources that could be placed at their disposal. She also blandly mentioned her belief that the Foundation's own initial bid had only failed because they had tailored it for a larger volume than had turned out to be the case. "We didn't expect war to break out but we have always favored a strong Navy."

The Arthos Systems rep agreed, that was well known, and it had surprised the bidders that the Foundation had so badly read the mood. It had been obvious they thought the discovery of the Batarians would lead to a much larger build-up than had been the case. They still had the contract for the next three years, however, and didn't want to see the Foundation steal any of their profits.

Yvette mentioned that so long as they came to an equitable agreement on licensing the Arthos Systems design, since the missiles would have to be built to it, the Foundation would not have any problem making a lot of missiles. She also mentioned that she expected the Navy would welcome Arthos' continued production even after the Foundation's production picked up.

When the government rep confirmed that, Arthos' negotiator became less defensive. He knew his company had failed one of the clauses of the contract and that if it they tried to take it to court after having the contract reassigned to the LPF, they'd lose.

After that, they settled down to negotiate the details, fees, conditions, delivery dates. The licensing fees that the Foundation would pay to Arthos were offset by the penalty fees Arthos would have to pay for their breach of contract. However, the government was also going to pay the LPF at slightly over the odds for the missiles due to the emergency need for it driving up the price. Yvette was careful to set that premium at only just over the licensing fees they would be paying, plus the taxes they would pay on the additional sales. Likewise, the government rep was setting the penalties to balance out the extra costs that they'd incur for going elsewhere. Overall, Arthos Systems would end up with a slap on the wrist purely to satisfy public opinion for failing to anticipate the outbreak of a war no one had expected, LPF would end up with a slight profit and the government would get their missiles.

And Harry's promise to his magically adept employees that they would make a difference in the war was made true even sooner than he expected.

* * *

 **May 14th**

Despite the ammunition situation, the Navy refused to delay operations against the Turians. Letting an enemy recover was always a terrible idea and, peaceful Golden Age or no, the Navy hadn't forgotten the basics of war. They had always been a home to those people who believed that war would return and wanted to be ready. Now, they had to put their studies into practice.

As such, dozens of Alliance cruisers and destroyers had been reassigned to forward patrols in the handful of formerly Turian systems they had taken. Designed for independent operations as they were, they still needed resupply from time to time, especially of spare parts and raw materials for their onboard systems.

It was during one of these resupply missions, the transport having just about finished disgorging the small mountain of goods for the squadron, that ships dropped out of FTL into the system a light-hour away from the Alliance ships. There was nothing scheduled to arrive for the next week and Captain Donna Tran, senior officer in the system, felt her stomach clench as confirmation came in. Three of those mid-sized ships escorting a big ship had arrived on the outskirts of the system twenty minutes ago and the drones had only just been able to relay that information.

Tran cursed the information lag that had forced her into battle. The exteriors of Alliance ships, both civilian and military, tended to be dark thermally thanks to the Cooling Charms that were used as standard along with self-repairing enchantments. This was to protect them from two of the dangers of space travel, the micrometeorites and the inability to dump heat outside of slowly radiating it away, both of which would be deadly to the crew with how fast and how hot ships could get.

The interiors were a different matter, especially those of freighters which were far more fragile than their military counterparts and also tended to cut costs by having closer to the minimum cooling. Since they had no business being anywhere near combat, they didn't need the heavy duty cooling systems of their armed cousins, so necessary for handling the enormous amount of waste heat generated by both kinetic and laser weapons.

Tran had two of her squadron's cruisers opened up as they took on their allotment of supplies, effectively rendering them incapable of maneuvering until their captains fixed the matter, and the freighter also needed to be guarded. Immediately, she tagged the two cruisers with that job, since it was just about certain that even the myopic sensors on board the Turians' ships couldn't miss the beacons that were the three ships.

And the Navy had ordered her, like the other forward commanders, to ensure the Turians didn't discover just who they were fighting.

She had to take out the Turians without letting a single one get away to warn the enemy, and she had to do it with only two thirds of her strength available.

"Tell the _Ambuscade_ and _Gladius_ to remain with the freighter. The rest of us are going to have to deal with the intruders. Engage ECM and put us on course to meet them. If we can, I want to approach them from out of the system's sun." Tran didn't expect that to work perfectly but that was the point. If they did manage to thread the needle like that, it would have increased the odds of their detection prior to engaging the Turian ships. The odds were good that they could achieve an approach from close to it, however, leaving the sensors trained their way to have to spot them despite the glare.

"Calculating course now, Ma'am." Navigation officer called out, his fingers flying as he worked out a course that would bend as they approached the line between the enemy ships and the local star without costing them too much time.

"Very well, lay it in and copy it to the rest of the squadron. Move out as soon as we have their confirmation."

Navigation nodded at the comms officer, sending over the course data. When her comms officer nodded to her, Tran smiled coldly.

"Engage. Let's see if those Turians have studied war as well as we have."

* * *

 **May 14th**

The cruiser commander waited as his officers went about their work. The system had been patrolled a few weeks ago but the most recent ship assigned to the system hadn't reported back. It was a day overdue and there was no comm buoy in the system to interrogate. While the galaxy had the image of dour, dull Turians, slaves to their duty and always punctual, the truth was that they had their own factions, their own internal dissent and their own people who were less than perfect.

The Turian Navy was no different and they had their share of personnel, even ship captains, who would take more creative interpretations of their orders. The previous captain was one of them, often taking his time with patrols of these empty systems as his own form of protest against the dull duty. That's why he wasn't worried when his command dropped out of FTL into this unimportant system.

It's also why his sensor technicians were less attentive to their duties than they should have been. Sure, they had been having a bit of trouble out in this section of the galaxy but no one had reported anything concrete, only rumors of the Terminus Systems destroying a backwater base over ten Relay transits away. Since Command had kept the details quiet, most Turians discounted the rumors as hysterical nonsense. Besides, the galaxy was a quiet place and had been for two generations.

Just another routine mission, they had expected, right up until the radar, a short-ranged sensor system compared to the infrared sensors, screamed out its warning.


	4. Relaying a Message

**May 14th, 2257**

Captain Tran was surprised. Pleased, to be sure, that her understrength command had made it so close to the Turians but surprised as hell that their enemies hadn't spotted them as they coasted along on their ballistic course.

Trying something like this on an Alliance ship would never have worked. Relatively 'cool' or not, they maintained a watch on optical and thermal that would have spotted her ships from the thrust of their engines before they went to ballistic, something that they couldn't change with magic. Active sensors would have locked on already and drones launched to create an expanding region where nothing could hide. Drone recovery and overhaul was a chore that Alliance crews got plenty of practice doing.

However, viewing the Turians from barely a light-second away, it was obvious the enemy didn't think it worth deploying their own sensor drones, assuming they had them in the first place. There were no odd readings, either, such as that had come from their fellows at other places prior to them showing those shields against projectiles. It was possible that they didn't have them up at all.

Tactical had been running and updating tracking solutions, refining them steadily until they were so close, they could hardly miss. Of course, firing from here would still give them time to raise those barriers. Feeling daring, Tran ordered her ships to continue to approach on minimum thrust. "And make sure to target their engines first, then weapons," she added, "I want to see if we can capture one of these bastards."

When they had closed to only thirty thousand kilometers from their targets, it became clear that the Turians had finally noticed them. The radar pulses they had been picking up, which incidentally provided their own targeting data for the Alliance ships, had evidently crossed a detection threshold. The Turian ships started maneuvering and emitting odd readings.

"All ships, you may open fire!" Tran ordered.

A second later, the Alliance ships' lasers lashed out. Free-electron lasers stabbed at the Turians' engines and weapon hardpoints, destroying the port weapons, point defense lasers and sensors on three of them and taking out the engines of all of them. The testing that Admiral Luber had performed in the Notchimus system had paid off in priceless data on the enemy's toughness, data that Tran used ruthlessly here.

Instead of punching all the way through the enemy ships, as the missiles' lasers would have done, her weapon crews had hit the enemy at far lower power. All except for that big one, which was a wreck bleeding air and debris within a minute, too big to tow home, too dangerous to treat it with any less respect.

The remaining ships were dead in the water.

By this time, her ships guarding the freighter had long since buttoned up and prepared for combat. Tran ordered them to bring it closer, though still far out of weapons range, and called her senior Marine.

"Are your people ready for this?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Honestly, there was only one acceptable answer to the question, which Major Carlson dutifully gave, but he'd also visited his soldiers, making sure it was the truth, while the ship was coasting to its meeting with the Turians. Captain Tran had already conveyed her intent to capture one of the enemy vessels, if they could manage it, when they had first detected the four ships and the Major had had a word with his officers.

The Marines, expendable clones all, launched from the boat bay in four assault shuttles, with the Major taking the second over. He'd dearly have loved to take the first shuttle but regulations forbade it, regulations that hadn't been updated when shadow clones became more common. His second in command Captain Sutton, commander of Bravo Company, would take that spot, though likewise he'd have to wait for a squad to announce the all clear.

"Damned regs." Captain Sutton didn't like having to wait. He wanted first-hand information in order to do his job properly but sent in Charlie Platoon first anyway. While they were all clones, they were carrying real equipment including cameras and signal boosters so this action would all be caught on tape for the brass back home.

The shuttle's forward docking port did its job, meshing with the hole in the Turian ship and the built-in repair charms made it airtight. The blast of atmosphere flooding the compartment followed with Charlie Platoon hard on its heels. When they were in position, Captain Sutton signaled to his platoon leader to go.

On the count of three, they moved, with a corporal at the front sending the signal to unlock the door then making room for the private who dove through the opening into the room beyond. The room was in fact a corridor and the Marines were grateful that there were no enemies in sight as they ran through the door, allowing their shuttle to disengage and the next one to disgorge its load of troops.

The Marines stormed the ship. While the Turians were certainly disciplined enough, fighting against the Marines despite their surprise and unfavorable numbers, only small groups against a squad or even a platoon each time, they were outmatched. The Marines knew that speed was essential and divided up into two groups, one driving forward to the bridge, the other to the rear to engineering.

By the time all four shuttles had unloaded their contingent, the first Marines were halfway to their destinations. A happy discovery had shown that wall walking worked just as well here as it had on some of the wrecks back home that were used for testing, anchoring their feet to the walls, ceiling or floor with equal ease. It was an advantage that the Major used ruthlessly. Even today, most humans didn't look up as much as they should, and the Turians looked up not at all, letting the Marines bypass hasty defense points and drop in from behind.

It was so easy, they were able to take prisoners with little risk to themselves, and though the bridge's door failed to yield to their stolen code, it was nothing their breaching charges couldn't solve. Knockout gases, sleep poisons and the like weren't available yet for dealing with their enemies so they took them down the hard way, rushing through and knocking them out with armored fists or the butts of their rifles.

Down in engineering, it was both easier and harder. The lock hadn't kept them out but there were a lot of hiding places that the boarders couldn't afford to destroy in their assault. They lost a handful of clones when some Turian set off a grenade in his own hand rather than be captured, but with him or her dead, they had taken engineering, and with it, the ship.

* * *

 **May 14th - late.**

"Excellent, Major, excellent news, indeed." Tran praised the man when he reported his success.

The other ships had also managed to take their targets. Indeed, one enemy ship had been targeted by two of her cruisers and they had been so badly outnumbered, only a single clone had been lost in the assault, dispersed when the enemy's fire had found a weak point in his armor.

In the aftermath, Tran learned first-hand that she'd sent over more Marines than the enemy had crew, as well as finding that the rumors were true. While the Turians had capable shipwrights and designers, making good use of the space they had, they weren't able to use space expansion the way that all Alliance ships routinely did. In fact, after the twisting and confused geometries that magic allowed on board their own ships, the Marines found the Turian layouts too simple to get lost.

For all their size, the enemy ships were no better armed than an Alliance destroyer. They simply didn't have the room for more equipment. The quality of that equipment was something that Alliance R&D was still eager to find out, especially if they could reverse engineer some of it for their own use.

And Captain Tran and her command had just secured a great chance for them to do just that. While one side of each of the enemy ships sported burn marks and melted hull in places, the rest of the ships had been taken mostly intact. Even the damage to the engines wasn't total, the gunners having concentrated on the exhaust nozzles rather than trying to cause internal damage.

Most of all, she had prisoners to take back with her, and a freighter on hand that could swallow all three ships whole. "I love magic." Tran muttered to herself as she watched the operation, then checking again that the prisoners were all held securely and that their food was preserved intact.

At least, they were pretty sure it was food. The stuff was plentiful, carefully stored in freezers and store rooms and generally close to facilities that included ovens and other heating methods. Thankfully for the Turians, it would be a short journey to their new accommodations and the people back home would be happy to feed the prisoners as soon as they worked out what they liked. It would be most inconvenient if the bastards died of starvation or food poisoning before they could be interrogated, after all.

Tran returned her attention to her displays. Just a little more salvage to do on the remains of the enemy's larger ship and the job would be complete.

Once that was done, it was time to head home with her prizes.

* * *

 **May 19th**

"Everybody loves a winner." Hermione muttered to herself as she caught sight of the newly promoted Commodore Tran on the TV again. She was nearly done with her officer training course at the Navy, having been fast-tracked through when she breezed her way past the various space competency tests and shown that she was naturally a neat person, something that living in space had honed in her to an art form. Likewise, the discipline that the Navy was looking for was something she had already achieved in her rise to captain of her own merchant ship.

Really, all she had to learn was the various ways the Navy did things. Things like salutes to uniforms to naval tactics, those were what she had to study until they became habit, but even there, the Potter clan's prized memorization techniques saw her adapting to her new life faster than anyone in the Navy had expected. Even if she did find a lot of the details bizarre, she still buckled down and did what was needed, getting it right the first time most of the time to boot.

As such, she was only a couple of weeks away from finishing her course and she'd tapped into the rumor mill as best she could while still a lowly officer candidate, hearing that there was talk of graduating her as a full Lieutenant rather than Ensign as she had been expecting. That had her in a mood for most of a week until she caught the other rumor going around, that they should have been making her a Lieutenant Commander based on her evaluations. Knocked out of her loop of complaints about unfair patronage, Hermione did as subtle a check as she could on her fellow candidates. The results confirmed the rumors she had heard. She, and a handful of others in the program, were really ahead of the curve. The thing they all had in common was a Potter ancestry but while the others were doing well, none of them had her space experience, nor her command skills.

In the end, Hermione decided that Lieutenant was good enough for her. She would rather be that and have to work her way up then start off higher than she was truly ready for.

* * *

 **May 21st**

ANS _Lightbringer_ was not a normal Navy ship. The battlecruiser had been undergoing routine maintenance and repairs of critical systems in the Ceres shipyards when the war broke out, much to Captain Rebekah Webb's displeasure. Worse, orders from on high had come down in the wake of the attack on Calvera colony which had halted, rather than accelerated, the ship's return to active duty. She had come out of the docks with two extra missile launchers, a supercharged set of Cooling Charms, a heavier layer of self-repairing armor and a new engine mounted that was supposed to compensate for the extra mass. Webb's pilot had been most unhappy with that, saying they were going to make her handle like a cow, though he had been smart enough to keep his comments away from the Captain's ears. Her tactical officer, Commander Justin South, on the other hand, had been ecstatic over the extra toys he got to play with.

Since leaving the hands of the shipyards, the _Lightbringer_ had been ordered to escort a trio of specialist ships to a system some eight hundred light-years from Sol where they would disable a jump-gate prior to dismantling it for transport.

As the senior officer on station, she would be responsible for not just her own ship or the half-dozen destroyers who would patrol the system, but also for the civilian specialists called in to oversee the operation on the alien jump-gate.

It was still a shock that the jump-gates, long thought to be useless relics good for nothing more than a source of refined metals and element zero, could transport a ship into FTL across hundreds of light-years. She had to accept it, however, since the Alliance's spy probes had seen ships disappear near one only to reappear in a distant system at almost the same time. Seeing them in action had put any doubts to rest that had remained after the analysts had proclaimed the surprising truth from data mined from enemy computers. Denying them to the enemy, and using those precious resources for themselves, was the obvious response from the Navy.

Captain Webb was brought out of her reflections when her sensor officer called for her attention. "Captain, we have incoming."

"Can you tell who they are?"

"Yes, Ma'am. The ships dropped out of FTL less than a million kilometers from the _Phantom_. They haven't noticed her and are making a course for the jump-gate here."

' _That's over a hundred million kilometers from the jump-gate. Why would they arrive so far out?'_ Webb wondered even as she asked for more details. "How many of them are there and what classes?"

"There are six of the larger ones and thirty-six of the smaller ones, Ma'am."

"Very well. Commander South, I want you to draw up a battle plan. Assume that we won't be able to close to laser range before the battle begins but that we will be able to concentrate our strength. I want us to meet the Turians well short of their sensor range of the jump-gate, if possible."

"Aye aye, Ma'am."

While South was working on that, Webb turned to her comms officer. "Inform the escort squadron to get their tin cans here at best speed without being spotted. I want to hammer them before they can threaten the eggheads."

"Aye aye, Captain." While her bridge was busy carrying out her orders, Rebekah considered the steps to come. Assuming they could assemble together, she would have her own modified battlecruiser, the heaviest class in the Alliance Navy, and only a screen of destroyers between the Turians and the eggheads she had been ordered to protect.

Although they outnumbered her six to one and their ships were larger than all of their own except for the _Lightbringer_ herself, Webb had to attack them before they got to the jump-gate and the innocent people who couldn't leave.

Of course, the enemy weren't just going to cooperate with her plans for their destruction. The first sign of that was when their fleet started to disperse just as she finished examining Commander South's proposed approach. Her ships apart from _Phantom_ had all started making their way towards her battlecruiser immediately, with the lone 'tin can' or destroyer having to dodge around the enemy carefully. _Phantom_ 's return to the fold had been slowed by that, particularly the way the Turians had obviously tried to look for something, her course having to take a wider curve around the enemy.

The second sign of the enemy's lack of cooperation was when they jumped into FTL.

Without orders, her comms officer had established a connection with the short-ranged FTL node back at the jump-gate where the unarmed ships were waiting. That officer had raced to ensure that the sensor feeds from the drones they left behind were made available to tactical and South reported that fact.

"Found them!" South announced a tense minute later. He was hungry for battle and his face and voice reflected that. "They dropped out of FTL ten light-seconds to system east from the jump-gate but their formation is shot all to hell and their velocity has dropped to zero."

While their ships were still well out of their own range, Webb couldn't let the Turians approach the jump-gate and her own ships were too far away to stop them, too far unless they did their own micro-jump to follow them. That carried its own drawbacks, namely their momentary blindness would leave them helpless if the enemy happened to attack before Alliance sensors found them again.

"Message to all ships: Turians have jumped ahead. Jump to one light-second to system north of their position and prepare for battle. Comms, include the Turians' positions and relative velocities and point out that I want to flank the bastards."

"Aye aye!"

"Navigation!"

"Course calculated and laid in, Ma'am!" Lt Lesich reported, the computers checking and refining his work.

Webb nodded curtly.

"Orders confirmed, Ma'am." Comms announced a minute later.

"Take us out, Mr Lesich."

With all of this done in haste, it was possible to make mistakes, to drop their squadron too close or even worse, too far from the Turians. It was a testament to the computers and to the training of her crews that they made none in this maneuver.

The Alliance ships jumped to FTL then came out of it almost in the same second. Previously, they had been scattered around the system as they maintained sensor watch, trying to reduce the inevitable light-speed delays in information. Now, they were grouped loosely in a spherical formation, the _Lightbringer_ at the center and _Phantom_ between her and the enemy. Webb snapped out orders and their formation shifted, tightening up as they moved to form a six fingered claw aimed at the Turians only ten seconds after they emerged.

* * *

 **May 21st**

"By the Spirits, what are they doing to the Relay?!" Captain Scipius demanded of his bridge crew.

"Unknown, sir. The unknowns are waiting by the Relay and readings continue to fluctuate. We can only see them from the reflected emissions of the Relay itself, according to computer analysis. The Relay seems to be losing power, however. It's possible they're trying to deactivate the Relay." The sensor tech offered up her opinion tentatively.

Scipius didn't much care what they were doing. It was obvious they were interfering with the Relay and that was bad enough to be going on with. The Relays were the most important relic of the Protheans, a transportation network that tied the galaxy together, making it possible for ships to cross the vast distances in only days, not years, even if they could have run their drive cores longer than two days at a time. Anyone who was tampering with them risked cutting off entire worlds from the rest of the galaxy, something which would kill some of the smaller colonies. Although this particular Relay was redundant, one that traffic used out of convenience rather than true necessity, any Relay was important enough to kill to protect it.

"Hail them. This is Captain Scipus of the Turian Navy cruiser _Pride_. You will cease your actions on the Mass Relay at once and stand by to be boarded. Failure to comply will be met with lethal force."

"No response, Captain." The comm tech announced a second later at his captain's silent order, even as he wondered why his superior officer thought they would respond so quickly. Even Turian warships wouldn't have an answer so soon, though they would at least be listening to the message already.

"Signal the fleet. When we get in range, all frigates are to spread out and cut off any escape. All cruisers are to fire on the criminals." ' _Spirits, were they insane? They must have known this would be the response if they were caught interfering with the Relay.'_

"Aye aye, Captain."

"Captain, sensors have picked up something coming out of FTL."

"What is it?"

"Unknown. Our sensors can't see anything there but they confirm the flashes of FTL re-entry."

"How many?"

"Six, no seven, sir."

"Launch our fighters and get them to investigate."

"Shall I order the rest of the fleet to do the same, sir?" Comms asked.

"Not yet. Do order them to launch their own fighters, however. Whoever these people are, they're hiding from our ships. I doubt they'll be so foolish as to attack but no point taking chances."

* * *

 **May 21st**

"Well, they've spotted us." Webb muttered to herself as she saw the new icons on the viewscreen.

The angry red dots had spilled out from the enemy ships shortly after they emerged from their jump. While none of the enemies were firing their damned multi-ton projectiles at her ships or at the civilians, yet, it was obvious they knew that something was happening.

"How are our firing solutions?"

"I would like a little longer to refine our targeting, Ma'am, but we can fire whenever you give the word."

Webb thought about it quickly then shook her head. "No point in waiting. Coordinate with the other ships, make sure we don't double up our fire, and concentrate on the bigger ships before the small fry."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am." South and comms both replied.

"Orders confirmed. Awaiting your command."

"All ships, fire."

Even as the Turians were shaking themselves into a layered arrow formation aimed at the jump-gate and the civilians there, Webb's squadron was approaching them from 'north' or 'above' their formation. With the Turians spread out as they were, their point defenses had good lines of sight on anything coming from her way but they would be spread out, a mixed bag, but the real problem for the Turians was that they weren't expecting to be fired upon, let alone from that direction.

It was a deadly but understandable lack on their part.

Each of her frigates could launch and control three missiles all the way to their targets, while the _Lightbringer_ could handle a full dozen. With thirty missiles and forty-two targets, they couldn't kill them all on the first wave, even if each missile could kill a ship on its own, something that the Alliance's limited experience said was unlikely.

They could, and did, target all the Turian cruisers, however, with five missiles each. These missiles were backed up by a handful of electronic warfare drones. Alliance R&D was still trying to improve their spoofing of Turian sensors but even a minor advantage was worth taking.

Turian point defense was caught completely flat-footed by the attack. Although they knew that something had emerged from FTL, they had no idea what the ships were nor where they were. Their own building velocity had carried them forward, leaving the Alliance ships falling slightly behind and away from the general region the Turian sensors were looking.

The attack missiles drove in, dodging randomly as part of their programming to evade the defensive fire their creators expected. At this range, the Turian sensors did spot the flares of the missiles' launch and the laser defenses fired wildly, trying to kill missiles they couldn't quite see. Space was vast, however, and the evasive moves of the missiles generated misses. Even as the Turians pushed their lasers into overheating, desperate for even a single kill, the missiles got into their own range of the Citadel's peacekeepers, last-second maneuvers putting them into position to attack each cruiser from multiple angles.

More through luck than actual knowledge, Commander South's first attack, aimed at the two leading large enemy ship, had found the enemy flagship of this impromptu reconnaissance fleet. Alliance doctrine placed command ships near the center and rear of a formation, the better to coordinate the overall battle and make the best use of the formation's combined defenses.

Out of thirty nuclear-tipped missiles, twenty-eight made it through the various defenses to the cruisers. Enemy ECM confused one and another simply failed to see its primary target, spending its fury on a lesser ship, its bomb-pumped X-ray lasers ignoring the kinetic barriers and tearing through the thin ventral armor of the frigate.

That was a sideshow to the main event. The remaining missiles' acceleration died as the case split open, the lasing rods spilled out and lined up on their targets and the nuclear warheads detonated, vaporizing the lasing rods a microsecond after exciting their molecules into creating brief but powerful columns of coherent radiation.

The Turian cruiser _Pride_ was a relatively new model of cruiser, only ten years old, with tough kinetic barriers, thicker armor than most races' cruisers, let alone any frigate built, and powerful infrared laser defenses. None of that mattered to the five missiles that had the ship surrounded on its top, bottom and both sides and fired at almost precisely the same moment.

One second, it was over a million tons of proud Turian warship on a mission to protect a Mass Relay from vandalism. The next, it was sliced in half by the X-rays that vaporized its metallic armor, using it to irradiate deeper into the vessel. Luckily, the failsafes kicked in as they were designed, cutting power to the engines before they added to the destruction and leaving the two halves of the ship drifting apart from the force of the explosions.

The other cruisers fared no better. Two just exploded when the lasers penetrated to their Eezo cores, ionizing a path through the vessels for the static charge to follow and add their own power to the damage wrecking the ships. Of the final three, one was mission-killed when the lasers wrecked its engines and severed main power lines, disabling its weapons and barriers and any hope of escape, while the other two were battered to their doom, the scores of lasers drilling through armor and killing crew by the hundreds even as they tore apart weapons, sensors and barrier generators. Out of the three thousand crew aboard those vessels before the attack, barely five hundred survived, the majority on the bisected flagship.

With the effective destruction of the fleet's commanders, _Pride's_ bridge being yet one more casualty of the attack, the Turians were in shock. That one attack had also killed almost half of the total crews and the surviving captains spent vital time trying to find out who was left in command. Conflicting orders also played their part to paralyze the Turian force, though some orders were too obvious to be countermanded.

Fighters swarmed towards the FTL flashes that they had seen, some of the pilots even going so far as to launch their disruptor torpedoes blindly in their desire to kill the enemy that had devastated their fleet.

Fifteen seconds after the first missile wave had struck, the second was launched. Captain Webb's fellows had anticipated her order, their vessels already speeding away from where they had fired the missiles. They had no wish to stay and see the Turian response now that they were ready to fire back. This movement without orders weakened their mutual defense net, something that angered the system commander, but they were quick to respond and reform their formation when her orders reached them.

While the captains and pilots were busy with that, the squadron's tactical officers had something far more important on their minds. They guided their missiles on their way, fighting against the now awake and active defenses manned by desperate Turians. Point defense lasers and fighters' defensive fire filled the space between the fleet and the missiles, and several missiles veered off rather than succumb to the firestorm. Half of them reacquired their targets but the other three had lost their lock and peered through the void for new ones.

Out of the thirty missiles launched this time, only twenty made it to attack range. One failed entirely to hit as its target desperately red-lined its engines to get out of the way but the remainder more than made their mark on the frigates.

The third and final wave completed the destruction barely two minutes after the squadron had raced to the rescue.

They didn't have it all their own way, however. A couple of the frigates, guided by fighters using their own destruction to pinpoint the enemy, had fired their main cannons at the Alliance ships. Luck was on their side, landing one glancing blow and one full hit on _Phantom_.

Alliance armor was ceramic rather than metallic. Since Alliance weaponry emphasized X-ray lasers as the main way to damage a target, their defenses had been designed with that in mind. The ceramics prevented the secondary radiation hazard that Turian armor presented when struck by Alliance missiles but it wasn't as effective at shrugging off large projectiles on a weight for weight basis. However, the lack of any barriers also meant that the armor was the only means the ship had for defending itself not only against the projectile weapons the Alliance used at intermediate ranges but also against the rocks and particles present in interplanetary space. As a result, they tended to have far thicker armor to make up for the missing kinetic barriers of their counterparts.

The glancing blow hit first, the projectile plowing along the dorsal armor of _Phantom_ and ripping off the forward dorsal sensor cluster before its trajectory carried it back off into space. The other one struck the bow of the ship where the explosion of its impact wrecked the nearby sensor cluster even as the projectile drove deeper, through the armor and across to the forward boat bay. Secondary effects wiped out one cannon and a laser cluster in the seconds following, even as emergency systems worked to contain the fires and the blast damage. Two weapon crews, present as backup in case the central computer systems went down, were killed before they realized anything was wrong and another crewman two decks down was knocked unconscious.

For all of that, though, the _Phantom_ was still in fighting condition. Its missile decks and engines were untouched and most of its onboard sensor capacity remained, as did the links to its sensor drones. Even as damage control teams raced to the area, her captain remained in his seat, gritting his teeth as he heard the damage reports.

The Turians were still dying, the third and final wave of missiles slashing in on the score of ships remaining and brilliant flashes piercing the night.

* * *

 **May 21st**

"Understood, James." Rebekah told her friend and captain of the _Phantom_ as he finished his report. "How long until you get the hull repaired?"

"We will have an armor patch in place in ten hours. The hull is airtight for now but I won't feel comfortable until I've got the armor over the top to protect her vitals."

"Very well. You can stay that long but once it's done, I want you to head back to Sol. Command has already agreed to sending reinforcements, even if neither they nor I believe the enemy will be back so quickly."

"You know, they must have lost hundreds of thousands of people by now."

"So? We all know what they did to Calvera." Rebekah growled. Her cousin had been aboard the _Star Witch_ and while she had survived, she had broken her leg in the final attack by the Turians before the ship escaped to FTL.

"So I think that's an excellent start." Captain James Watson replied with a grin. "Please give my congratulations to the Slicer. For once, I look forward to watching the footage as I write up my reports."

"The Slicer, hmm? I think that name's going to stick with him."

"And maybe encourage him to slice some more Turian ships?"

"Oh, heavens, no. Would I do something like that?"

"Perish the thought!"

James laughed and shook his head as he made her smile. He had come to like the other captain. A devious tactician and firmly in control of her ship, she could still relax in private and did whenever military courtesy allowed her to do so.

"So have you heard where we'll be sent after I get my ship back from the repair slip?"

"Oh, nothing officially, but there are rumors that the eggheads back home have found the location of a Turian world. I'm sure whoever they send will need scouting elements and I know where they can find a good ship for the job."

James was pleased at the compliment, Despite her current wounds, he was proud of his fleet little ship and looked forward to getting her back in action. "Thank you. That would be a welcome change, putting them on the defensive."

* * *

 **May 23rd**

Admiral Jones had pulled strings, to be sure, but it was worth it to get the poster child of the war onto his staff. The woman had been graduated as a full Lieutenant, which was rare enough to begin with, but she had broken the Academy records on half of her exams, and close on the rest. There had been calls to commission her as a Lieutenant Commander, three ranks above the Ensigns normally produced, but cooler heads had prevailed.

Watching Lieutenant Hermione Potter moving about his cabin, he knew he had secured a real jewel of a junior officer, one whom he was fully intending to groom for future command. Having her as his flag lieutenant, the officer whose duties would involve her managing his time, passing on messages and generally being his personal assistant, would be invaluable to her career. Although some might believe he was thinking of her family connections, or the way she filled out her uniform, Jones' mind was firmly on her potential for the service.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Jones told her when she finished gathering up the tablets and documents from the recent staff meeting. "Take a load off." He pointed at a chair and held back a smile as his most junior officer sat rigidly at attention.

"I assume you've been curious as to why you were assigned to my staff."

He saw her momentary hesitation before she nodded. "I have, sir. It is an honor for any officer to be selected, much less someone fresh out of officer training."

"Indeed. It is one of the means at an Admiral's disposal for testing a junior officer's capacity for future duties. Many an exceptional staff officer got their start in this way." Jones added, careful to hide his interest in her reaction, spotting the moment of disappointment that crossed her face.

"I'm honored by your confidence in me, sir." Hermione's response came quickly enough, and even sounded genuine, but Jones shook his head.

"I don't see you following in their footsteps, however." He knew it was mean of him to tease her but back when he had been a flag lieutenant, his admiral had done the same thing to him. And the Navy was big on tradition, after all.

"You don't, sir?" It was obvious that she was hurt by that, though she did a decent job of hiding it. She had been a captain of her own ship and that experience had left its mark, including on encouraging self-control.

"No, I don't. While I am sure you could try to take that path, I think the Navy would benefit more if you have a command of your own. In the fullness of time, of course." Jones was flashed a brilliant if brief smile.

"Of, of course, sir!"

"And I hardly need add that I expect you to learn all you can while you are on my staff. I would be disappointed if you wasted the opportunity." Jones frowned severely. While he would indeed be disappointed if it came to it, he was laying it on thick to tease her.

"No, sir. I mean, I won't disappoint you, sir!"

He couldn't help the smile that cracked his armor. "I know you won't. Now, when we are in private, I would like for you to relax. It may or may not please you to learn that I was not the only one interested in acquiring the services of the most interesting Academy graduate in a generation. It is certainly something you should learn, however. Your results and your previous career in the private sector have given you a platform which should allow you to set new records. Proper humility has its place but an officer should be aware of his strengths as well as his weaknesses."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"It's all part of your education, Lieutenant. Every good officer has to look out for the interests of those under them and nurture talent where they find it."

"Patronage?" Hermione Potter allowed some of her disgust to seep through with the word.

"Of a sort." Jones allowed. "Of a sort. But only to promote those who have the talent to succeed, only in the best interests of the service as a whole. Our duty to protect not only those under our command but the people back home is better served that way than promotion strictly by seniority. You wouldn't want an incompetent in charge of your ship simply because he has been in the job longer, would you?"

"No, sir. I wouldn't." His guest broke off. She seemed to want to say something and he thought he knew what it was.

"It's just that you didn't want unfair treatment, did you? Your namesake is the same way, from all the stories I've heard. Fair doesn't always mean equal, though, does it? Shouldn't those people who have done a better job get a better reward?"

Hermione looked thoughtful as he gave her time to work through the idea.

"For now," he said and broke the silence between them, "just concentrate on your duties and settling in. There will be plenty of time for you to make your own mind as we work together. I know I look forward to seeing how you perform under me."

"Yes, sir."

"And the first thing I want you to do is to describe to me the Alliance's current strategy."

The lieutenant had anticipated some sort of test like this. "Yes, sir. The Alliance has gone after Turian capacity for force projection into Alliance space, especially with the destruction of the Notchimus base. Priority has been given to destruction of enemy ships and denial of resources rather than risking capture and letting the Turians get away with intelligence on us. It's an essentially defensive strategy in my opinion."

"Go on."

Hermione visibly paused to order her thoughts. "Current strategy has been forced to this, despite the historical records emphasizing the need for offensive strategies, by the lack of ships available. The Turian Hierarchy has had the time to build up a vast fleet, something the Stellar Alliance has not had the time, resources or military need to do due to our shorter, peaceful period in space. The political will to create a vast fleet was never there before. Until that imbalance in the number of ships is redressed, I suspect that there will remain a substantial pressure to pull our fleet back to guard the colonies and Sol."

Jones winced. " 'Substantial' is an understatement, Lieutenant. Virtually every representative back home is demanding more protection for their voters. There is no sign the Turians even know where any of our worlds are but if the politicians had their way, we'd have nothing left for any offensive action."

Hermione nodded. "It is hard to blame them for wanting to protect their own, even if we do know it's exactly the wrong thing to do at this time."

"Back to the question, Lieutenant." Jones directed her.

"Alliance strategy has been to buy time, I believe. The limited offensives, taking the safer victories rather than risking failure with the more extensive use of cloned troops in captures of enemy ships and bases, are trying to buy the continued support from the public for the war without the loss of valuable trained personnel or ships."

Hermione paused again. When the Admiral didn't stop her, she continued. "I believe that once Command feels more comfortable with the size of the fleet, once at least the first wave of new construction has come out of the yards and completed their shakedowns, it will select a more daring target to show the people back home that the war is winnable. I hope this will be accompanied by updates to certain procedures, sir. While the Navy has recognized the utility of magic in enhancing the underlying technology, I believe there may be ways to use special abilities to further improve performance that certain officers might be resistant to adopting. I have no information as to why they resist them, however, so I do not understand their decision."

"Such as?" Jones invited her, intrigued.

"Such as the use of clones, sir."

"But we already use clones for boarding parties and internal defense. The Marines may gripe occasionally about not getting more glory but the results speak for themselves."

"Yes, sir. However, they are still using tactics that were worked out before clones were available, such as requiring officers to wait back where it is safe rather than allowing them to lead from the front. They're all clones, just expendable chakra, but the regulations still treat them as if these officers would be risking their own lives while their troops would not."

"How did you find out about that, Lieutenant?" Jones asked, curious.

"I set my clones to check out the Academy library after there was a reference to Marine boarding tactics in an interview with Captain, I'm sorry, Commodore Tran. I was curious and my clones had the time so I asked them to do the reading that I did not have time to do myself, ranging from the recommended reading lists to other topics that caught my fancy. One found an after action report from Major Carlson where he mentioned that being stuck in the second shuttle had led to a problem with getting the most up to date information. The clone that read that was curious and looked up the regulations for the Marines, finding that the Major's placement was exactly according to regulations, along with finding an online forum where Marines had been complaining about what they called an obsolete regulation for at least the last ten years." Hermione shut herself up here, cheeks flaming at her temerity for airing her views, her critical views, so candidly.

To her relief, Jones smiled. "And your use of clones to do the reading explains in part how you managed to achieve the scores you did in the Academy, Lieutenant. Something that further supports your point, I noticed. Did you perhaps also use clones more when you captained the _Star Witch_?"

"Yes, sir. I would keep a clone on duty on the bridge whenever my normal shift ended. Even when I slept, I knew my clones would be there taking up the slack. Navy regulations have interfered with that practice since I joined up."

"I know the regulations you are referring to, Lieutenant. They were intended to stop officers killing themselves by refusing to leave their posts when their reliefs arrived. If you believe that you can better serve the Navy by keeping your clones on duty like this, I might be willing to put you to the test. However, at the first sign of strain, or if it fails to provide any benefit, then I will terminate the experiment."

"I understand, sir. Thank you, sir! Permission to start immediately, sir?"

"Why the rush?" Jones had to control his impulse to laugh at her eagerness to begin.

"Well, there is a lot of reading I want to catch up on for the fleet's activities, sir. And…" she trailed off.

"And?" He prompted her.

"And I simply feel more comfortable knowing that I can always have a clone ready for duty. I haven't slept as well since I had to quit the habit. Knowing that one of me is always available to complete paperwork or answer your summons, for example, allows me to sleep better. If you need me when I'm tired, my clones can still complete tasks you assign. Plus I would be able to catch up on some of my pleasure reading," Hermione admitted at the end.

Her posting as a flag lieutenant had meant that she was on duty whenever the Admiral was awake and the man seemed to be almost as bad an insomniac as Hermione's namesake. Without her clones to spread the load, she had been feeling the burden more than she liked.

Admiral Jones laughed briefly at her admission. If truth be told, he found the Lieutenant, old for her age due to her previous career, to be pleasant company with a quick wit. The prospect of having more of her company did not displease him in the least.

"Very well. Permission granted. However, I will be keeping my eyes on you."

At his words, Hermione had stood up and, with three hand-signs, had produced three clones with minimal smoke. In unison, the quartet bowed to their superior. "Thank you, sir."

The original resumed her seat at the Admiral's gesture. "With your permission, sir, my clones would like to start right away."

Jones waved his hand and the clones exited his cabin quietly. "You mentioned you had other ideas?"

"Yes, sir. The self-repairing enhancements to our ships is a sensible practice but I believe that more utility from it could be achieved if our ships had heavier armor, even adding a layer of Turian-style metallic armor, to better protect the crews and vital systems from enemy fire. The enemy have had ample time to develop defenses to their own weapons. We could copy them rather than spending precious time and research starting from scratch."

"Hmm. While I agree that heavier armor is useful, are you really so sure that using _Turian_ designs is a good idea? In addition, advocating such a thing might not be the best thing for your career." Jones added.

While it was true that it would be an unpopular suggestion in some quarters, he knew that there were already advocates suggesting just that. Unfortunately, any changes to their armoring scheme like this required the ships be sent back to the shipyards for overhaul. Not only were the shipyards currently full with new construction but removing _any_ ships from the front was against the Alliance's current strategy. However, his question was also a test, just as most of them had been of his newest member of staff.

"If it saves lives and wins battles, my career is an acceptable sacrifice."

"That's a most _courageous_ attitude, Lieutenant. However, is it the wisest course available to you?"

"I'm only a Lieutenant, Admiral. Older and wiser heads will choose the Navy's strategy, however that doesn't change my duty, including to provide answers to the best of my ability."

Jones smiled ruefully. "It may interest you to know, then, that others, 'older and wiser heads', as you say, have also been making that suggestion in certain quarters." He saw her relax at that confirmation and went on. "However, it is impossible for the time being. Even if everyone agreed with the idea, as you know, the shipyards are fully booked for the next four months with the first two waves of new ships."

Hermione bit her bottom lip, holding back her comments.

"It isn't all so bleak, however. These early encounters with the enemy have come soon enough that a redesign was completed in time incorporating thicker armor on the new cruisers and battlecruisers. It's added to the cost, mostly to improve the weight-reduction and self-repairing enchantments to keep performance the same, but for once the Navy is flush with cash and it has not appreciably slowed construction of the new fleet."

His new Lieutenant smiled. " 'Ask me for anything but time.' " Hermione quoted.

"Indeed. And speaking of the time, I believe this would be a good point to finish our discussion. I will see you back here at 0800 to go over plans for the next fleet combat sim. I have had some ideas I would like to incorporate and your presence will be required as I go about meshing them into the existing framework."

"Of course, Admiral. Good night, Admiral." Lieutenant Hermione Potter rose and bowed to him before exiting, having recognized her dismissal.

Left alone with his thoughts, Admiral Brian Jones considered the evening. Her analysis of Alliance strategy was particularly interesting. Although it only covered the next few months rather than going into longer term planning, she had been spot on in both what the Alliance Navy was doing and why. Perhaps he should ask her thoughts later on strategy in the longer term, but for now, her ideas on ways the Navy could improve performance would provide plenty of food for thought. It was clear she believed in what she had said about the clones, in particular, and about adding more armor to their ships now that they had a true threat to deal with, but that didn't necessarily mean she was correct.

He would, as he had told her, keep a close eye on the surprising young woman. ' _Not so young as all that,'_ a voice reminded him. Brian had chosen to go career Navy right out of college, where his exemplary performance and luck of getting into interesting situations got him the same kind of patronage he was now exercising on her behalf, resulting in rapid promotion. Despite the gulf in their ranks, her own decision to join the family business meant that where he was young for his rank when he was last promoted, she was very much on the old side for hers. In fact, she was only seven years younger than his fifty-two. If he wasn't very much mistaken, promotions would come even faster for her than they had for him. This was both due to her talent and civilian experience and due to the practice of 'dead man's boots', promoting officers to fill the gaps left by deaths in combat.

He truly hoped that those gaps would not be left by too many of his friends but he hadn't chosen the Navy for personal safety. Those friends were sailors too, and knew the risks just like he did.

Still, it wasn't his old friends he was picturing when he went to sleep, part of his mind plotting how to bend another regulation that was getting in the way while the rest of him tried to ignore the whole thing. After all, he had bigger problems to deal with.

Problems such as the Turian shipyards that Command had supposedly identified and wanted him to investigate, something he wanted to get right, rightfully deserved his attention.

Normally, reconnaissance missions were handled at a lower level, a destroyer or cruiser, even a squadron of them, wouldn't merit his attention. No, this was to be a reconnaissance in force. They were to go in and see what they could find. If it happened to be something they could not handle, they were to pull out. If not, well, the Turians would not enjoy what followed, even if Brian certainly did.


End file.
